


Eye of the Beholder

by h34rt1lly (LILYisatig3r)



Series: The Betrayer [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Het, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, The Betrayer, War of the Ancients
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 130,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3994645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LILYisatig3r/pseuds/h34rt1lly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the War of the Ancients began, Eliana's life was perfect. Signs of the world changing start to appear, putting everyone on edge. Trust is shattered, relationships are formed, and when the demons invade, everything falls apart. Eliana is dragged into the fray, and she, Tyrande, Malfurion, and Illidan, must find a way to save all they hold dear. The Burning Legion has come.</p><p>Illidan x OC, part one of a trilogy that follows the War of the Ancients.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to the two main original characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to semiiramiis for making sure I stay accurate to the lore, as well as inspiring me to write this.
> 
> This is the first part of what is planned out to be a two or three part series. All of the events in part one take place just prior to the start of the War of the Ancients, all the way through until the Sundering. It will follow the revised version of history, that can be found in the War of the Ancients Trilogy, written by Richard Knaak. Though it will follow the events of the book, it focuses more on my characters, Tyrande, and the twins than it does Krasus, Brox and Rhonin.
> 
> This is an OC x Illidan centered fic, but it will take some time to get to that point. Most of this first part is character development (and therefore, how characters appear to act/be, will change significantly as they grow) and is rated accordingly. However, that will likely change in future parts. I plan on trying to update about once every week to two weeks.
> 
> Lastly, thanks to Arenoptara as always for beta-reading for grammar and story structure. She is the reason my writing is where it is today. Enjoy!

Suramar was a city well known for its extravagance, its splendor. With Zin-Azshari, the seat of the palace, so close by, their benevolent Queen wouldn't have it any other way. It was a city that very clearly indicated to any who gazed upon its architecture, that whatever race lived within its walls, held nature in very high regard. The grand, colossal trees twisted upwards towards the sky throughout the entire capital, and formed edifices that surrounded the grandiose sanctuary found at its epicenter. Pathways of soil, lined with lanterns hung upon bowed curves of wood, wound throughout the outer perimeter of the city, leading inwards to the stone-paved Main Square.

There, luxurious stairs led the way to the entrance of the Temple of the Moon, which was by far the largest building in the entire metropolis. The massive structure was assembled entirely of white marble stone, which in and of itself was an uncharacteristic choice for building material. After nightfall, when the pale rays of moonlight reflected off the alabaster masonry, the entire Temple appeared to glow-true to the deity it had been erected for. It was the foundation of the Night Elves' culture, the place of worship for their Goddess Elune.

It was there, on this particular evening -morning, for other races who were not nocturnal- that Eliana Starhelm, a young novice in training to become a priestess of the Sisterhood of Elune, was supposed to be. Instead however, she could be found buried under her warm, pelt blanket, in her own bedroom.

As the moon's pale, silver beams peeked above the lofty trees, it slowly turned the leaves from a bright, verdant shade to a muted, deep olive. The rich scent of moss and hearty wood permeated the city-for in reality, it  _was_  the city. When the familiar and comfortable scent reached Eliana's nostrils, she breathed in deeply in content and rolled onto her side, tugging the furry pelt cover with her. A soft, gentle sigh left her lips and she drifted between the world of dreams and the world of the living.

Until a knock interrupted her sleep.

"Eli! Eliana, are you awake yet?" A strong, male voice called out to her from the other side of her rounded, wooden door.

She grunted in denial and the owner of the voice laughed once, before turning the handle. When the door swung open, a tall male with the deepest cobalt shade of hair, held up in a partial topknot that allowed the rest of his thick mane to hang down his back, stepped into her room. Unlike Eliana's rather uncommon pale lavender skin tone, his was the more run-of-the-mill violet shade, which contrasted with his cool-toned hair. The dark, grey-green leather he was adorned in, that was nearly the same shade of the leaves at this very moment, creaked with every step he took.

When he finally reached her bedside and looked down at her with luminescent silver eyes, he shook his head at her in amusement. "Do you ever rise on time, Eli?"

By now, the moon's radiance had started to invade Eliana's room through the makeshift window that two large branches formed just above her bed. She threw her arm over her eyes to block out the light, though it paled in comparison to the sun's blinding rays.

"I do not know what you speak of, Cyth. I am always on time," she replied dryly, her voice hoarse from being used for the first time that night.

A slow smile spread across Cytheas Nightfeather's face, as he said, "Really? Is  _that_ why you are still home and not at the Temple at moonrise, on your first day as a novice?"

"What are you-" A gasp escaped from Eliana then as she realized what he had said, and she shot straight up in bed. "Oh gods that be, it  _is_  my first day! Why did you not come wake me sooner?!" the female exclaimed, as she scrambled out of bed, trying to disentangle herself from her pelts.

Cytheas chuckled as he stepped backwards to give Eliana the room she needed to frantically grab her belongings from around the room. "I thought you would remember. Besides, I am not your keeper-I am your friend."

"Yes, and a good, true friend, would have woken me sooner!" Eliana cried, as she picked up her plain, chestnut-colored sandals and raced out of her room, quickly descending the circular staircase that ran along the inner perimeter of her home.

Cytheas trailed after her, his boots thudding on the wooden floors. "Well, a true friend would have stopped by, knowing his closest friend would not rise on time, to give her a ride to the Temple."

At that, Eliana whirled around, a slice of spiced bread held between her mauve-colored lips. She took it out of her mouth briefly to ask, "Truly?"

"Yes, truly. Illy is outside, waiting for us."

"You brought Illy? I haven't seen her in ages," she replied, as she bent down to place the sandals on her feet. When she straightened, she glanced around her kitchen before her eyebrows furrowed. "Was my father here when you arrived?"

"Ardrias? No, I did not see him. I assumed he had already gone into the forest."

"Hmm. You are probably right. Well, I will simply have to speak with him later. We should leave," Eliana stated, as she brushed past Cytheas and headed out the front door. Cytheas rolled his eyes at Eliana's abrupt change in thought, and followed her out into the wooded area.

A magnificent, white and black striped Frostsaber was laying on the cool blades of grass in front of the home, and Eliana slowly sidled up to it, running her fingers through its soft, downy fur. Fondly, she whispered, "Hello Illy, I have missed you. Why has your owner not brought you around lately, hm?"

At Eliana's soft coos, the beast purred in delight. Before Cytheas approached the two females, he muttered, "You get more attention from her than I do, Il'hadras."

"What was that, Cyth?"

"Nothing, Eli, nothing. Let me hop on first. After I drop you off at the Temple, I have to head out to Black Rook."

"So early?" Eliana asked, as she stepped back so that Il'hadras could rise for her master to mount her.

Cytheas grasped the pommel of the ornate, jeweled saddle and pulled himself up, swinging his leg over the Frostsaber's side. Once he was settled as far forward as he could be without risking the very thing that made him a male, he stretched his hand out to Eliana, who grasped it firmly. With Cytheas' help, she hopped into the saddle behind him and laced her arms around his slim, but muscular midsection.

He quickly glanced over his shoulder at her-she sputtered when the tips of his long hair whipped her in the face-and asked, "Are you settled?"

When she hummed in affirmation, he squeezed Il'hadras' sides with his inner thighs and the unyielding mount shot forward, towards Suramar's Main Square. Conversation was ill advised, given the sheer speed of the monstrous sabercat. Also, Cytheas' hair was thrashing wildly in the wind so Eliana was forced to tuck her face into her chest, and rested her cheek on her friend's back. The forest hued leather he was garbed in was warm from his body heat, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the comforting sensation. Although she would have loved to feel the wind in her own snow white hair, this was an acceptable alternative.

Eventually, Il'hadras' paws padded on stone instead of dirt, and they slowed to a prancing walk. Eliana raised her head and opened her own silver eyes, gazing at the stalls that surrounded them. They were in the Main Square now, where merchants set up shop every single day to try to rid themselves of their ware, and put coin in their pockets. The cacophonous sound of their efforts to sell, along with the conversations that the inhabitants carried on, swirled around Eliana and Cytheas as they made their way to the Temple of the Moon.

Because she'd been admiring the city's magnificence, Eliana was caught off guard when Il'hadras lurched to a stop, and her face collided with Cytheas' back. "Oomph," she grunted, as she cradled her nose that was now stinging in pain.

"Sorry, I thought you realized that we had arrived," Cytheas said, by way of an apology.

Eliana slid off of the saddle, and came around to stand in front of the Frostsaber and her master. She glanced up at Cytheas, as she absentmindedly petted the ridge of the mount's snout. "So you head out to Black Rook now?"

"Only for the day," he replied, as Il'hadras shifted restlessly, anxious to be on the move again. "I will return before sunrise."

Eliana nodded and turned to head up the steps into the Temple. She'd barely placed her foot upon the lowest white, marble step, when Cytheas called out to her, "Eli?"

She turned to face him, a slender white eyebrow raised in question.

"Good luck on your first day," he encouraged, with a gentle smile gracing his lips.

Returning the gesture, she waved lightly and continued to race up the stairs. From behind her, she could hear Il'hadras' heavy paws pounding on the stones, and the sound faded into the distance.

In an attempt to remain undiscovered, Eliana slinked behind a pair of priestesses and followed them closely into the main area, the Chamber of the Moon. Their sandals tapped softly on the mosaic tiled floor, and Eliana found herself struck with awe at the sight of the room.

The Chamber of the Moon was located directly in the center of the Temple, and was the only room in the establishment that was open to the sky. This allowed Elune's presence to reach her disciples unfettered; at the moment, because the moon had risen to her apex in the night sky, her soft, pale rays of illuminated the rectangular room. The musical conversation of birds native to the forest surrounded Eliana, and she hummed along to their cheerful melodies. Soft murmurs from her fellow priestesses cocooned her and she sighed deeply, content. A slight crosswind drifted through the room and the gentle breeze caressed her cheek, causing a few strands of her hair to lightly ripple in the current.

Eliana shifted her gaze from above her to below, and gasped at the sheer beauty of the mosaic floor. The colorful tiles wound around the entire room, depicting the yearly cycles of the moon. Every so often, an iridescent white tile had been inlaid between the other tiles, and the effect was beautiful: as the pearly decorations caught the moon's beams, the floor seemed to shimmer.

Unfortunately, Eliana had not realized how long she'd been admiring the sights and from behind her, someone quietly cleared their throat. She winced at being caught, and slowly turned around to face who she assumed was the High Priestess. Instead, another initiate in a silver, hooded robe stood before her, with a slender hand placed gently on her hip. When she reached up and lowered her hood, Eliana broke into a smile of recognition and ran to the other female, hugging her tightly.

"Tyrande!" Eliana exclaimed.

Tyrande Whisperwind laughed softly, as she returned Eliana's embrace. "Eliana, you are late. We expected you at moonrise."

"Oh yes. I uh, I slept in. Cytheas had to come by and give me a ride."

"What would you do without him?" the older female asked, as she sighed in exasperation.

"I honestly do not know. Is the High Priestess angry?"

Tyrande shook her head, her dark navy locks swinging back and forth. "No. Luckily, you picked the perfect day to be behind. We are preparing for the Ritual of the Moon, and High Priestess Dejahna has been gathering resources, and enlisting the aid of those who are already priestesses to help with preparations."

"The Ritual? Is that not in a fortnight?"

"It is, but the celebration festival is next week. You and I will be learning the traditions involved before then."

After Tyrande spoke, she turned and headed for the inner sanctum of the Temple, beckoning for Eliana for follow. "Come, we should present you to the High Priestess."

At that, Eliana clasped her hands tightly together, and her palms began to sweat. She tried to swallow but her throat had seemed to close up on her. With quick breaths, she trailed after her friend, into the depths of the Temple of the Moon.

**Near sunrise.**

Eliana was kneeling on the floor, in the Chamber of the Moon, her small hands raised in front of her chest. Her slender fingers were laced together and her head bowed, with thick tresses of her alabaster hair hanging down in front of her face. The pale silver robes she had received earlier, that indicated that she was a novice of the Sisterhood of Elune, pooled around her and spread across the floor, obscuring the tiled depiction of the moon's cycles.

So engrossed was she in her nightly prayer, that she did not hear the sound of approaching footsteps. When the person in question laid a hand gently on Eliana's shoulder, she started and a soft gasp left her lips, as her eyes shot open. She glanced over her shoulder hastily, and was surprised to see her friend again so soon.

"Tyrande? You frightened me!" Eliana exclaimed, in a voice that was louder than was appropriate for a Temple.

An apologetic smile graced Tyrande's full lips, and she whispered, "I am sorry, Eliana. I was only wondering what you were still doing at the Temple at this hour."

"This hour?"

The other female nodded and explained, "It is nearly sunrise."

Eliana stood quickly, her lower legs prickling with pain from sitting for too long. "Sunrise? I had not realized I had been praying for that long."

The two females traipsed out of the room and into the antechamber of the Temple, which was illuminated softly with the warm glow of the lanterns hanging from the walls. From between the grand columns that lined the perimeter of the Temple, the dusky night sky, tainted with the lavender and ruby shades of the impending sunrise, littered with glittering stars. Eliana sighed at the beauty of it. Tyrande glanced down at the younger female in understanding, and they shared a knowing look, as they descended the marble steps into the Main Square of the city.

At the base of the staircase, Il'hadras sat patiently, her white fur standing out like a beacon so close to the break of day, as the sky bordered on the cusp of the opposite times. She was resting on her haunches and gazing up at Eliana expectantly, as her master stood beside her, his arms crossed. When Eliana spotted the two, her forehead creased in confusion and she hurried down the remaining steps, coming to a stop in front of Cytheas.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked, surprise coloring her words.

"Well I did drop you off this morning. You did not expect me to just force you to walk home, did you?" he chided, his voice low.

"Truthfully, I did not expect you to return to the  _Temple_ tonight. I thought you would just head straight home, since you said you would be away all day."

Finally, Tyrande caught up with them and she nodded in greeting to Cytheas, who returned the gesture. "Cytheas Nightfeather. I have not seen you in quite some time. How are you?"

Cytheas bowed slightly and when he straightened, he replied, "I have been well, Tyrande. And you?"

A gentle smile spread across Tyrande's face. "Well, thank you."

He turned to Eliana and indicated that she should get on Il'hadras. Eliana narrowed her eyes at Cytheas underhanded command, but acquiesced and clambered onto the Frostsaber. Once she was settled, Cytheas adjusted the reins and whispered, "I need to speak with you about something, so that is why I came by."

"It could not wait until tomorrow?" Eliana whispered back.

"Obviously not," he retorted, and turned to face Tyrande again. "Oh, I forgot to mention. Malfurion was looking for you, Tyrande. He and Illidan were over on the other side of the Square."

Tyrande tilted her head slightly, as she lowered her eyebrows in thought. "Malfurion was? Thank you, Cytheas. I shall go search for them," she said, as she wandered off into the crowd, waving goodbye to Eliana.

Cytheas climbed up into the saddle, behind Eliana this time, and she handed him the reins. With his arms on either side of her, he nudged Il'hadras into motion and they slowly made their way out of the city. It wasn't until the stone pathways of the Main Square were behind them, that Eliana broke the silence.

"So, Cyth...you saw Illidan?"

A dry chuckle left Cytheas before he replied. "You picked up on that, hm? Yes, I saw both of the twins this night."

"I see."

Though Eliana could not see his face, Cytheas rolled his eyes at her vague reply. "Oh, out with it, Eliana. I know you want to ask about him."

"Am I that transparent?"

"When it comes to Illidan Stormrage, yes. You have had your eye set on him for how many years now?"

"Not  _that_  long," she said defensively.

"No, just since we were younglings. So what is that, half your life?" Cytheas teased.

Eliana turned slightly in the saddle and bashed her friend on the arm. He yelped and rubbed his bicep, his face scrunched up in mock offense. She shook her head at his teasing and sighed in annoyance.

In an attempt to change the subject, Eliana asked, "So what was it that you wished to speak with me about?"

Cytheas fell silent at her question and when he hadn't replied after a few moments, Eliana turned again, to look up at him. His expression was far more serious than she expected and she furrowed her eyebrows in concern. "Cyth, it is not bad news, is it?"

"No, no. It is not bad. We will speak of it when we get to your home."

"Well...if you insist," Eliana replied softly, as she faced forward in the saddle again.

With the atmosphere between them tense, they continued towards Eliana's home at a leisurely pace. She tried to enjoy the light breeze that caressed her skin and ruffled through her hair, but her mind refused to be at ease.

_What could Cyth possibly need to speak to me about that is not bad, but that he cannot say now?_

Finally, Il'hadras came to a stop in front of Eliana's home, and Cytheas hopped off, landing silently on the layer of leaves that lined the forest floor. He raised his arms up and Eliana turned to face him, grasping his biceps tightly. Placing his hands on her sides, he lifted her off of Il'hadras, brushing her ribcage softly with his thumbs, and planted her solidly on the ground in front of him.

His hands lingered for a moment, until Eliana shifted at the prolonged contact, confused and slightly uncomfortable at the way her skin was tingling. He dropped them quickly and cleared his throat.

"So...what was it that you wished to say?" Eliana asked softly, as she gazed up at him from under her thick lashes.

"Oh uh...the uh, the Festival of the Moon is fast approaching," he said, his voice shaking slightly.

Eliana's face scrunched up in confusion and slowly, she replied, "Yes, yes it is. Tyrande told me that we are to be preparing for it soon. Why do you mention it?"

Cytheas' hand came up and he rubbed the back of his neck. Avoiding making eye contact with her, he murmured, "I was wondering if you would be attending with anyone."

"Well, I will be there with my sisters, yes."

"No I mean,  _with_  anyone."

"Cytheas, I do not understand."

A frustrated sigh left his lips at her response and he finally looked her right in the eye. "Would you like to go together?"

"Together? You mean...only the two of us? Alone?"

Hesitantly, he nodded. Eliana looked down at her feet and shuffled in place, unsure of what to say. Out of all the things Cytheas could have asked, this was not one of the options she had considered. When she still had not replied after a minute or so, Cytheas sighed.

"It is alright if you do not wish to go with me. I understand, Eliana."

"It is not that, I just...you caught me off guard. I do not know  _what_  to say, honestly," she mumbled.

"Think about it then, will you? I will come by first thing in the morning to take you to the Temple again."

She nodded and Cytheas climbed atop Il'hadras once more, lifting the reins in his hand. With a slight wave to Eliana, he and his Frostsaber raced off into the new day. Eliana watched them fade into the distance, uncertainty clouding her thoughts. Cytheas had never considered her in that light before, or at least she didn't think he had, so why would he start now?

As she stood there, staring off into the forest, she realized that when Cytheas had asked if she were going to the festival with any other, though she had denied that she was, there  _was_ someone that she wished to attend with.

A wave of guilt washed over her then, because when her closest friend had taken the initiative to begin courting her, Illidan Stormrage's face had flashed through her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment with your thoughts, if you feel so inclined! I love to hear what you guys think :) We're officially in for the long haul with this story, heh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliana and Cytheas train for a bit, before some friends make an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta, Arenoptara.

The aromatic smell of rich spices and sweet fruit filled the kitchen, as Eliana stood in front of the counter, absentmindedly smothering her slice of spiced bread with moonberry jam. The early evening rays of the moon, as pale as the very tips of a moonpetal lily, drifted into the room through the open window, but she barely even noticed the presence of Elune, that was normally so comforting to her.

Her father, Ardrias Starhelm, stood just behind her, observing her blank mental state. When the amount of jam on her bread threatened to overtake the slice, he stepped up and took the spreading knife from out of his daughter's hand, and set it on the wooden countertop.

He looked down at her, his light olive-hued eyebrows furrowed, and shook his head slightly. "Eliana, what is troubling you this morning?" he asked, his tone warm and soothing.

Her father's voice had always reminded her of a rumbling bear; it was deep and could be intimidating, but more often than not, it made her think back to her childhood and all the times he'd comforted her when she was afraid. This moment, though the fear was in a different context, was no different.

Eliana glanced up at her father, strands of her snowy hair glittering in the brilliant light of the moon. She belatedly realized that she no longer held the spreading knife in her hand, and set her bread down on the counter. "Oh, it's nothing, Father. I am not troubled."

"No? Then why is your bread practically drowning in jam?"

"Is it?" At that, she looked back down at her meager breakfast and shrugged. "Oh, I suppose it is. Well, I  _do_ like moonberry jam."

"Not that much. Come now, tell me what is bothering you," he insisted gently.

A deep sigh left Eliana's lips, and she picked up the knife again, subsequently scraping off a few layers of jam from her breakfast. "Cytheas, he...he asked me to attend the Festival of the Moon with him last night."

"And? You always attend the Festival together. Ever since you were little, if I recall correctly."

"Yes, but...this is different. He asked me to  _attend_  with him."

Understanding dawned on Ardrias' angular face, and he arched an elongated eyebrow. "So the boy finally found the nerve to start courting you, hmm?"

Eliana whirled around to face her father, the spreading knife forgotten yet again as it clanged to the floor, and incredulously asked, "You  _knew_  how he felt?"

"Well, of course. He has never made it a secret how he felt about you."

" _I_  have never known his intentions until last night!"

"That is because you have remained blissfully blind for the past few decades, my dear. Cytheas has always harbored feelings for you," Ardrias explained, his tone condescending in the way that fathers often were, when teaching their children a lesson.

Her silver, pupilless eyes turned downwards and slowly, she turned away from her father to hide the emotions flitting across her face. She felt so many things in that one moment: anger at being left out of the loop, and subsequently caught unaware when her friend admitted his feelings; confusion at how she really had never noticed all these years; and frustration at the fact that he'd even told her. If he hadn't, they might've been able to remain close friends forever.

Her heart raced in her chest and she tightened her grip on the edge of the kitchen counter. This newfound knowledge of her friend's emotions changed the entire dynamic of their friendship. She gazed out the window in thought, admiring the birds whilst they sang their enthusiastic nightly greetings, wishing she could also be so carefree.

Ardrias studied his daughter and after a few moments, laid a hand on her shoulder. "Cytheas has always been there for you, Eliana. He is not a bad male to claim as a mate. Why do you doubt him?"

Softly, Eliana replied, "It is not that I  _doubt_  him, Father. I just...I had never considered him in that light."

"Then whom  _do_  you consider in that light?"

Eliana hesitated to confide in her father. Ardrias hoped to become a druid, one of very few in their race who wished so, and he studied under the demigod Cenarius-because of that, he knew Malfurion Stormrage very closely. Though he was rather fond of Malfurion, his opinion of the other druid's twin was...well, it was not positive. Her father had never made his opinion of the darker-haired male a secret.

Instead of admitting his name, she shook her head in denial. "No one, Father."

"Well, I suggest that you give Cytheas a chance, then. At least attend the festival with him. It does not mean that you have to be permanently bonded for life right away."

"Yes, I suppose you have a point..." Eliana agreed.

Not a second after she spoke the words, a knock echoed through the room and they both turned towards the front door. Ardrias, eyebrows furrowed again, for who could be at their door so early in the day? Eliana brushed past her father and said in reassurance, "That would be Cytheas himself. He told me he would stop by to take me to the Temple. I am to give him an answer about the festival as well."

She hesitated in front of the door, her hand poised over the handle. Though she'd strode over to it confidently, now that Cytheas was actually on the other side, she knew she couldn't avoid giving him an answer any longer.

Ardrias drifted into the rounded main room and took a seat at their wooden table, sipping a mug of mint tea that he'd made earlier. "Well then, do not keep him waiting, daughter."

With a resigned sigh, she pulled the door open and the pungent scent of moss, as well as the sharp smell of pine cones, drifted into the room. Cytheas stood on the other side, his navy eyebrows raising comically high on his face when he saw that Eliana had responded to the announcement of his arrival.

"Eliana! I am...shocked. I thought I would have to come and wake you myself."

"Mmm, very amusing, Cytheas. I was actually prepared for your arrival today. Would you mind waiting a moment?" she asked.

"Take your time," her friend reassured, and she raced up the cylindrical stairs to her room as he leaned against the doorframe. Spotting Ardrias at the table, he nodded respectfully and greeted, "Good morning, Ardrias."

A knowing smile lifted at the corners of Eliana's father's lips and he raised his mug in response. "Good morning, Cytheas. So, the Festival of the Moon, hm?"

Cytheas groaned and quietly replied, "She told you then, did she? Yes, I asked her last night."

Ardrias chuckled. "My daughter is- _was_ -rather oblivious to your feelings. We spoke just now concerning that."

"Frankly, I was afraid to even ask her. I know she has had her eye set on Illidan for some time. I thought she would turn me down immediately, but surprisingly, she did not," he replied.

At that, Ardrias' amiable smile turned into a discontented frown. "Illidan  _Stormrage?_  Malfurion's twin?"

Cytheas hummed an affirmative sound and Ardrias continued on. "I...do not approve of that, in the slightest. Illidan is brash, ill-tempered, and he does not have a personality I believe would fit Eliana's. They are  _very_  different. Besides, both the twins have had  _their_  sights set on Tyrande Whisperwind for...forever, honestly."

"Well, that is who she speaks of often," Cytheas admitted grudgingly.

"No, no that will not do. I have convinced her to at least give  _you_  a chance.  _Illidan_...no…" Ardrias muttered under his breath. His words trailed off as he rose from the table, and drifted into the kitchen with his mug in hand.

Eliana finally came back down the stairs then, her silver novice robes draped over her slender body, accentuating her every curve. Cytheas swallowed roughly; he could swear the Sisterhood made them so tight on purpose, in order to inspire Elune's male followers to stay true to the goddess-or at least, her disciples.

She hopped off the final step and ambled over to Cytheas, a reticent smile upon her face. "I am ready."

Ardrias ambled into the living room, Eliana's slice of jam-smothered spiced bread in his hand. He handed it to his daughter, his face still scrunched up in concern at Cytheas' information about his daughter's infatuation with Illidan.

"Have a good day, daughter. I will be home late. I meet with Cenarius today."

Eliana took her breakfast out of his hand and nodded, as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed her father lightly on the cheek. "Very well, Father. I will see you tonight!"

Cytheas turned and nodded a goodbye to Ardrias, stepping off of the porch and onto the forest's plushy, moss covered floor. Il'hadras saw them approaching and rose, shaking the unrest from her massive body, causing her fur to ripple in waves. Eliana trailed after her friend towards his mount, her gaze focused on the back of his head. The royal blue strands of his hair swayed with his every step and caught the moonlight, turning a soft, silver streaked cobalt. By far, it was one of the most multi-faceted shades of hair that she'd seen, streaked with undercurrents of midnight tones and lighter, pale blue strands. Though she had never noticed before, she supposed that one  _could_  call the shade beautiful.

He had yet to mention anything about last night and she wasn't about to be the first to bring it up. Though she'd told her father that she'd give Cytheas a chance, in reality, she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to see him as a potential mate. For most of their lives, he'd acted as an older brother to her, a protector in a platonic sort of way. Her father was correct though- she couldn't determine how she truly felt about him without actually  _trying_.

When they sidled up to Il'hadras, Cytheas climbed atop her first and reached out his hand to Eliana, like he had the day before. She shoved the slice of bread into her mouth and grasped his hand, pulling herself up and settling in the saddle. When she wrapped her arms around his waist again, they took off for the Main Square.

They rode in silence for some time and Eliana closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of the wind in her hair and the comforting motion of Il'hadras beneath her. Too soon, in her opinion, the massive walls that surrounded the city loomed up ahead and it was then that Cytheas finally spoke. "So...have you thought about my invitation to the Festival at all?"

Eliana's shoulders fell slightly at his mention of the event and she quietly exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She had hoped he wouldn't ask until later in the day. Quietly, she replied, "I have, yes. I spoke with my father about it this morning."

"He did mention that when I spoke to him before we left. And...did you...will we…" Cytheas trailed off, his uncertainty causing him to jumble his words. They came to an abrupt stop and he lifted his leg over Il'hadras' head, hopping off from the saddle. Turning back to face Eliana, he placed his hands on his hips and looked down at the ground, his forehead creased as he sat there, deep in thought.

"Cyth?" she inquired.

"It is harder than I thought it would be, for me to be direct with you." He paused before glancing up and locking eyes with her, and continued speaking, his words escaping him in a rush. "Will we be attending  _together_?"

Eliana's cheeks darkened and she broke eye contact, running her fingers through Il'hadras' fur to buy some time, instead of answering immediately. When it felt like minutes had passed and she still had not answered, Cytheas sighed and walked up to her, resting his hands on the saddle's pommel. Hesitantly, he reached out and placed one hand on Eliana's knee, causing her to tense.

"Eli, I...I know it is difficult for you...to think of me in that way, when we have been friends for so many years."

At that, she finally raised her eyes to meet Cytheas'. His expression was open, hopeful. She could see the plea in his eyes and it nearly broke her heart that she couldn't return his affections so easily.

He continued on to say, "All I ask, is that you give me a  _chance_. If you wish for me to act as only your friend at the festival, rather than a male who is courting you, then I can do that-especially if it will make you more comfortable with the idea."

"That would not be fair to  _you_ , Cytheas," she mumbled.

"I do not care if it is fair or not. If that is what will help you and get you to agree, then I will do it."

A reluctant smile teased at the edges of Eliana's lips and she teased, "Are you bribing me, now?"

Relieved that he could still at least get some humor out of her, Cytheas laughed. "If that is what it takes, then yes. I am not afraid to admit that."

Timidly, Eliana placed her hand on top of Cytheas' "I...I will go with you, Cytheas. It will take time for me, to try to see you in a different light than I am used to but...I promise that I will  _try_."

The second the words left her lips, Cytheas broke into an elated grin and on impulse, he lifted her hand and placed a quick kiss upon the back of it, jumping back onto the saddle afterwards. Due to his newfound positive outlook on life, they made great time to the Temple and he dropped her off with a cheerful wave, before he took off for Black Rook Hold.

Eliana waved back languidly as he rode away, her thoughts racing. She had been excited for the festival but now, she found that she was just...apprehensive. What if she couldn't return Cytheas' feelings? Would their friendship fall apart? They'd been so close for nearly their whole lives. Deep down, she didn't think that she could feel the same way about him, that he felt about her. She didn't want to lose him though, and if that meant trying to reciprocate his affections, then she could at least give him that.

With a sigh, she lifted her skirts and climbed the steps to the Temple.

**Later that night.**

"He  _what?_ " Tyrande exclaimed.

"He asked me to attend the Festival of the Moon with him, next week," Eliana explained in a low voice, as they stood in the rotunda that formed the entrance to the Temple.

It was towards the middle of their day, and the 'morning' prayer session had just ended. Night Elves were nocturnal creatures by nature, and so their 'day' began once the sun started to sink below the high mountain peaks, and continued until just before it rose once more. So, the middle of the day was really, the middle of the night. The full moon rested at its apex in the midnight sky, surrounded by glittering stars. While the warmth of the sun was comforting, Eliana much preferred the beauty of the dark.

The morning prayer, involving both novices and ordained priestesses alike, took upwards of three to four hours. Afterwards, the novices were free to do as they wished for the remainder of the day. At this particular moment, for the two females, it meant gossiping.

"Well, it is about time. Honestly, I am surprised that he actually took the first step," Tyrande said.

"Mmm, so was I," Eliana replied softly.

Tyrande lowered her eyebrows in confusion and tilted her head slightly. "Why is it, that I sense that you are not...ecstatic about it?"

"It is not that I am not happy. My father said much the same thing this morning when I informed him, as well."

"From your tone, Eliana, it does not  _seem_ that you are truly happy."

Eliana sighed and gazed out at the landscape from between the massive columns that ran along the outer edge of the Temple. Without looking back at Tyrande, she said, "I am worried that I will not be able to return his affections and as a result, lose his friendship forever."

Tyrande studied her friend's face then, as she faced away from her. The younger female's eyes were narrowed as she stared off into the distance, her alabaster eyebrows low on her forehead. Gently, Tyrande laid a hand on Eliana's arm, and the other female turned back to face her once again.

"I am sure that if you did not try at all, it could result in losing his friendship either way," she surmised.

Eliana's silver eyes dropped to the ground and she nodded reluctantly, before speaking. "I think so, as well. Which is why I agreed to attend with him."

"You agreed!"

"Yes, I did. This morning," she mumbled.

"Oh! Well, it will be enjoyable! Everyone loves the Festival, and even if he  _is_  courting you, he is still your friend, first and foremost. You have always attended together in the past, yes? Think of it that way and perhaps there will be less pressure?"

"Perhaps. What about you, Tyrande? You are close with Malfurion, yes?"

At the mention of Malfurion Stormrage, Tyrande's cheeks darkened and now she gazed out upon the forest that surrounded Suramar. "Yes, Malfurion and Illidan both. We...grew up together."

"Ah yes, that does sound familiar…" Eliana trailed off. Of course Tyrande would be close with Illidan as well. The twins rarely went anywhere without the other.

"I have also been thinking of my affections and where they will be...with whom I would fit best."

Eliana smiled lightly and nudged Tyrande with her shoulder. "Well, which of the two makes your heart race more?" Though the younger female spoke teasingly, deep down, she wished for Tyrande to say Malfurion.

"I...I do not know yet. I know that I need to choose a mate soon, however."

"What is the hurry?"

"No hurry, really. It is just...It is simply time for me to make a decision. We have known each other since we were children. I can tell that both of them have been thinking the same thoughts as I."

"I see...it seems that we both have a lot to think about," Eliana whispered.

"Indeed. I have other obligations to attend to now, though. I shall see you tomorrow?" Tyrande asked.

She nodded and Tyrande descended the marble steps. Eliana watched her go, until the cobalt-haired female disappeared into the crowd that milled around the Main Square. As she kept her gaze trained on the throng below, she spotted a flash of downy white fur, striped with black. Though that was a common color for Frostsabers, it immediately made her think of Il'hadras and she stepped up to the edge of the Temple floor, scanning the crowd again.

To her surprise, Il'hadras stepped out of the mass of elves, her master seated atop her. He smiled when he saw Eliana perched on the precipice and she hesitantly returned the gesture.

_What is he doing here so early?_

Quickly, she turned and raced down the steps, hopping off the last and coming to a stop in front of Cytheas. She voiced her thought to him and he gestured over his shoulder.

"You are finished with your morning prayer, yes? I came to help you train for the day."

Eliana shook her head disapprovingly. "You have responsibilities, Cyth. You cannot just leave Black Rook because you wished to see me."

"Actually, I offered to deliver something to Suramar Hold, and Lord Ravencrest said there was no point in me returning to the hold a second time, so...I decided to take the opportunity. Besides, you  _need_  the training. You are nowhere near as adept as Tyrande."

"Thank you, for that vote of confidence."

"It was only the truth," he teased, as he mounted Il'hadras again.

He nodded up at the Temple and after he turned to face the Square, said, "Go and change into your training clothes. I'll meet you across the Square at Suramar Hold."

**Two hours later.**

Suramar Hold was smaller than Black Rook, but only slightly less intimidating. Built into the base of a colossal, long-dead tree, its facade was barren of any decorations or color. It towered above the buildings that surrounded it and stood out all the more due to its spartan appearance.

As Eliana approached the main entrance, flanked by two stoic city guards, she hunched her shoulders in an attempt to appear complaisant-not that it took much, at her height and build. She nodded at the guards as she stepped through the open doorway, and they barely reacted to her presence. Cytheas stood in front of the only piece of furniture in the otherwise empty anteroom, speaking to another guard who was posted at the desk. When the soles of her leather boots echoed on the wooden flooring, he glanced up at her and smiled in approval at her attire. She'd grabbed the first thing she'd found in her wardrobe, which was just a simple pair of onyx leather leggings, and a matching jerkin.

"I was worried that you would just come in your novice robes," he commented.

"Well, you  _did_  tell me to change," she rebutted.

"I know, but how often do you listen to me?" Cytheas nodded a goodbye to the guard, as he drifted past the desk and gestured for Eliana to follow him.

He pushed open the iron gate that separated the anteroom from the hallway, and hung a left once they were in the dark corridor. Eliana glanced to her right and saw a smaller room farther down, with two more guards posted on either side of that gate.

"What is that way?" she asked Cytheas.

He glanced over his shoulder at her before facing forward again. "The holding cells. Didn't think you wanted to go that direction."

Eliana shuddered as she followed Cytheas out into the training grounds. Under her breath, she muttered, "No, I would rather not."

Her friend chuckled at her innocence. For the ripe age of two thousand, five hundred and eighty five, there were moments where her youth made an unexpected appearance and it amused Cytheas to no end.

Their boots trudged through the clearing, kicking aside copious amounts of fallen leaves, and their dry rustling filled the air. Cytheas came to a stop next to a weapons rack that sat along the outer perimeter of the grounds and pointed to the various options.

"Choose one," he commanded.

"What are we focusing on today?"

"Whatever you wish. You are more skilled in close-combat than ranged weaponry, so perhaps we should focus on your archery today," he suggested.

"Archery it is, then," Eliana replied, as she lifted a simple wooden bow from the rack. She hoisted an arrow-filled quiver over her shoulder and they wandered over to the targets that rested on the other side of the space.

Cytheas hung back a bit and Eliana tossed the bow and quiver to the ground, so that she could stretch beforehand. Raising her arms above her head, she tilted from side to side and then rotated her neck a few times, to loosen up her muscles. When she lifted her legs and began to pull on her foot to stretch her hamstrings, Cytheas called out, "We are not running, Eliana. Just begin."

"Could you be any more impatient? Alright, alright," she mumbled, as she bent down and picked up the bow. She pulled the quiver strap up and over her head so that it laid across her body, and reached over her shoulder for the first arrow.

When she nocked it and pulled the bowstring back, Cytheas tsked at her and quickly strode over, coming up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and placed his hand over the one she had pulled the string with.

"Did you even aim, Eli? Make sure the vane is pointed in the right direction,  _before_  you nock the arrow-like this," he said, his mouth just above her ear as he demonstrated which way the arrow was supposed to face.

Eliana tensed at the feel of Cytheas' warmth enveloping her, and he dropped his arms quickly when he felt her posture change. As he moved away again, he quietly said, "Try again."

Shaking the stiffness from her posture by shuffling her legs, she turned the arrow so that the fletching faced upwards and set the shaft on the arrow rest. After nocking it to the bowstring, she raised the bow again and drew the string back, resting her index finger against the corner of her mouth.

Cytheas made a disgruntled sound again and she froze in that position, mumbling, " _Now_  what?"

"Your arm," he said in a disapproving tone, and approached her again. His hand lightly rested on her elbow, which was currently angled upwards. He pressed gently down, tilting her arm until it rested parallel to the arrow shaft.

"Remember to always keep it level," he instructed as he stepped back, almost directly behind her now.

"Can I release now?" she asked.

"Almost. Make sure that your thumb is relaxed and that your anchor is solid. As you aim, keep your posture firm. It is common for many to focus on aiming over their form," he called out.

"Alright…"

"When you are ready, take a deep breath and simulate the sensation of expanding your chest when you let go of the bowstring."

Eliana took a deep breath, letting it settle in her lungs. When her chest expanded to the point just before a full breath, she let go of the bowstring and stretched her arm back, so that her spine was arched. The arrow flew through the air, arcing beautifully until it struck the target, two rings below the center.

She exhaled loudly, frustration causing her arm to drop heavily. "Why did I miss?"

"Because we cannot all be master archers overnight, Eli. You held your breath which affected your form. You focused on  _that_ , rather than aiming. You probably moved the point of the arrow lower when you let go."

"Ugh!"

"Practice makes perfect. Again. Watch your form this time."

**Three hours later.**

"This is absurd! I cannot hit the damn target!" Eliana exclaimed.

"Because you are focusing on the release more than your form! You need to ensure that your form stays balanced, otherwise it will affect the trajectory of the arrow."

"I do not think this weapon is for me."

"Eliana, do not give up simply because you do not immediately take to it. These things take time. Do you think Tyrande became adept at it in one day? Of course not."

"She is a natural with the bow, and you know it."

"Well you are a natural at swordsmanship-to each their own. Would you rather focus on that for the next couple of hours?"

"Yes," she muttered, annoyed that she'd been defeated by her own lack of aptitude.

"Alright. Place the bow back on the rack and I will grab the blades."

Begrudgingly, she ambled back over to the weapons rack and placed the wooden bow down, tossing the quiver onto the forest floor beside it. Her upper arms ached from pulling the string back so many times and her fingers felt raw. How she had forgotten to grab a finger guard was beyond her.

Cytheas walked over to her, with two short, curved blades in hand. Tucked into the crook of his elbow, were two sets of leather gloves. He turned his body, indicating with his chin that she was to take them from him and they wandered out into the middle of the clearing.

"I thought we were practicing with two each?" Eliana asked, as she pulled the smaller pair of gloves on.

"No, you are. I will parry with a longsword," he said, as he laid the blades down onto the grass on either side of her. After taking his pair of gloves from her, he turned and headed towards the weapon rack.

She nodded and bent down, picking up the blades by the leather-wrapped handles. She tested the weight of each in her palm, satisfied at their lightness. The advantage of shorter swords was that they were no where near as hefty as a longsword, allowing her to strike faster and more frequently. She didn't have much muscle and most definitely did not have the stamina required to wield a longsword. However, Cytheas did, and it was his preferred weapon of choice when on patrol.

Eliana twirled the blade in her right hand, as she watched Cytheas return to her. He got into position, bringing his left foot forward slightly and his right back, resting his weight on the ball of his right foot. His arms mirrored his stance, and he held the handle of his sword with his right hand, bracing it with his left. She giggled at the serious, stony expression he wore, and he narrowed his eyes in annoyance at her lightheartedness.

"Be serious, Eliana. These are real weapons."

With a smile still teasing at the corners of her lips, she said, "Of course, of course."

She shifted into her unique stance, which differed from the standard position that her fellow priestesses used. In fact, it closely resembled a crouch. Her back was low, and the muscles of her thighs and calves carried nearly all of her weight. Instead of resting on the ball of one foot, she was balanced nearly on the tips of her toes, forcing her center of gravity forward.

Cytheas had mocked her position at first, claiming that it simply made her look constipated. However, when she'd bested him in three out of four training matches, he ceased his jesting.

He raised his eyebrows in an invitation for her to attack first and she shook her head. "You cannot get me with that again, Cyth. I know better now. You come to me first," she taunted.

Without warning, he shot forward, using his right foot to push his weight ahead. As he ran towards her, his arms went up above his head to bring the blade down, straight towards her skull. Thanks to her stance, she was able to dive out of the way rapidly and ran her curved blade along his as it came down. When her blade nearly reached the hilt guard on his weapon, she pulled upwards. Had he been less trained, it would have disarmed him.

However, he simply shifted his weight, pulling his sword up and out of her scimitar's curve and about-faced, sword still firmly grasped in his hands.

"Hmm," she hummed.

"Cannot disarm me that easily, Eli dearest."

"Apparently not."

They circled around each other, their feet switching to a new position every time the other shifted theirs. Swordplay was a dance, and that was probably why Eliana enjoyed it more than archery. There was a refined technique to archery yes, but she simply did not have the patience to perfect something that didn't come easily to her. But swords...swordplay had always been different, for Eliana had always loved to dance.

After a few more unsuccessful attempts at striking her, Cytheas jumped back and lowered the point of his sword to the ground.

"What is the matter, Cyth? Finished already?" Eliana taunted again.

Cytheas wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm and laughed. "Only when we are not practicing archery are you this confident, Eliana. Why can you not apply this same passion to the bow?"

"Because the bow is boring, that is why," she countered.

A masculine voice from behind her, piped up then. "I am inclined to believe that the Priestesses of the Sisterhood who are proficient huntresses, would beg to differ."

Eliana whirled around at the sudden interruption, spotting a leafy, green mane that could only belong to one male. He stood beside Tyrande, who was resting her arms on the top portion of the wooden fence that surrounded the grounds.

A smile spread across Eliana's face then and she wandered over to the fence, sparring match forgotten. "Malfurion! Are you well?"

"Indeed, I am. Tyrande and I were passing by and she wanted to stop and observe for a bit. You are incredibly skilled with your blades, I have to say."

"Thank you, what a compliment!"

Cytheas caught up then and sidled up to Eliana. "It is only because she had one of the best as her shan'do," he teased.

"Oh please," Eliana said, rolling her eyes.

"Though, Tyrande, perhaps she would benefit from practicing with you concerning her archery skills. No matter what I do, she just cannot get it down."

"Unfortunately, he is correct. I have no patience for archery," Eliana agreed.

Tyrande laughed briefly and said, "Of course. Whenever you wish to practice, I shall help you, Eliana."

Malfurion glanced over his shoulder, back at the Square, and Tyrande turned as well, to follow his gaze. "What is it, Mal?"

"Oh, nothing, Illidan and I were going to head into the forest to see Cenarius and he is late. I suppose I should not be surprised," Malfurion replied, amusement coloring his words.

"No, probably not," Tyrande chuckled.

At the mention of Illidan, Eliana's eyes lit up and she asked, "Illidan is meeting you? I did not realize he shared your interest in the demigod's realm, Malfurion."

"Well...I am not sure if I could say that he does. He seems fascinated when my shan'do demonstrates but…" the green-haired male trailed off.

Tyrande piped up then and finished for him. "But Illidan does not have the patience to sit in one place, for the amount of time that those demonstrations require."

At that, Malfurion's twin's voice drifted over to them from the edge of the Square. "Well now, that is rather rude, is it not? I have  _plenty_ of patience."

Illidan Stormrage wandered out of the crowd, trailing over to join his twin and Tyrande. Though his words had seemed harsh, he had apparently spoken in jest, for his face was adorned with a smile.

Malfurion laughed heartily and shook his head, causing his great verdant mane to ruffle. "No one here believes that, Illidan."

"No, I suppose if I were to speak honestly, I do not either," the darker-haired male replied.

Tyrande gestured towards Eliana and Cytheas then, on the other side of the fence. "You remember Eliana and Cytheas, Illidan? Eliana and I train together at the Temple. Cytheas is under Lord Ravencrest out at Black Rook Hold."

"I do. Eliana and I have met once before. Though-" Illidan turned to face Cytheas. "-I do not believe  _we_  have met?"

"It is a pleasure, Illidan Stormrage. I am Cytheas Nightfeather, a close friend of Eliana's. We grew up together, much like you and Malfurion did with Tyrande."

"I see. It is nice to make your acquaintance," Illidan said, before his rare, amber eyes turned back to Eliana.

"It has been a while since we met, Eliana. I hope you have been well," the onyx-haired male continued quietly.

With Illidan's appearance, Eliana turned shy and politely, she replied, "It has been some time, indeed. I have been busy, with my initiation into the Sisterhood. But I have been well, yes. And you?"

"Busy is also the perfect description of my life as of late," Illidan agreed.

Malfurion pushed off of the wooden barricade then, and took a few steps back. "Come, brother. Cenarius expected us some time ago. It was very nice to see you, Eliana!" he called out jovially, as he turned and headed towards the Square's exit.

Illidan rolled his eyes at Malfurion's excitement to see the demigod, and nodded to the two inside the training grounds. Tyrande waved, and the two of them trailed after Malfurion.

Eliana watched them retreat, observing Illidan and Tyrande as they spoke, and Cytheas in turn, studied her.

It was impossible to deny that whenever the object of her infatuation was mentioned, or in this case appeared, she became distracted. Though she had said that she would attend the festival with Cytheas, her actions made it blatantly obvious as to who she had her sights set on.

He couldn't help but wonder if perhaps it really was a lost cause after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray, Illidan and Malfurion made an appearance! On a side note, as a writer, it's incredibly helpful to hear what one is doing right, wrong, what people enjoyed, what people hated, etc. I would really appreciate any reviews on this story as it's my first time writing for the Warcraft fandom :) Many thanks to any that do leave a note!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Festival of the Moon has finally arrived, and Cytheas makes a grave mistake.

Eliana wandered through the thick forest that surrounded Suramar. The spongy moss that covered the ground, crunched softly under her steps. It was moonrise, and the pale glow of the satellite drifted through the colossal pines that enveloped her. She could hear the sound of the wildlife calling through the trees: the distant shrieks of the more feral beasts intermingled with the cries of the local birds, and though many would shy away from the cacophony of nature, Eliana welcomed it. Especially in this particular moment in time.

Today marked the beginning of the Festival of the Moon and as one of Elune's disciplines, she was ecstatic for the festivities to begin. However, she also dreaded it for purely personal reasons. Nearly two weeks ago, Cytheas had asked her to attend the festival with him, as the inception of his courtship for her. Out of sheer guilt, she'd accepted. Both her father and Tyrande had insisted that Cytheas deserved a chance and she shared that view, which is why she had agreed to go with him-as a potential mate, and not as a close friend.

However, in the fortnight since he'd asked, he'd been smothering her with attention. Every single morning, he was at her house, offering a ride to the Temple. Of course, she greatly appreciated the gesture, and the fact that she was always early was nice, but she worried that it gave him the wrong impression. She also felt that she was nearing the territory of possibly taking advantage of him, and that was something she most certainly did not wish to do.

In addition to that, he did not return straight to his own home after finishing his duties at Black Rood Hold, no. He was waiting, without fail, at the bottom of the Temple's steps every single night, to take her back home. Eliana was not a fan of extended walks by any means, but now that she no longer had the option, the time alone would have been very helpful for straightening out her thoughts. At this point, she felt as if her entire day consisted of Cytheas, Cytheas, and more Cytheas-especially since her father deemed it appropriate to mention her friend in nearly every conversation-and she felt as if she could not breathe.

So, since the Festival was scheduled to begin today and she needn't report to the Temple first thing in the morning, as she had been for the past two weeks, she had decided to take the opportunity to wander off on her own for once. Other elves often told her that solitude was vital in remaining sane, and she was inclined to agree, after having little to no time alone recently.

It also served as a reminder as to why she had chosen to become an initiate in the Sisterhood of Elune. Nature had always calmed her, helped her to relax, and kept her centered. Ardrias often said that Eliana was more like her mother in that regard; she was always gazing out at the forest and admiring the view. There was no question as to which path Eliana would follow, as she grew through her younger years. Her mother had been a Priestess and so too, would she.

A whimper broke through the musical melody of the forest, and Eliana swiftly turned her head towards the sound, the elongated tip of her ear twitching. When it resonated again, she quickly followed the echo to her left, through the underbrush, her luminous eyes narrowed in concentration. She stepped over a large, upended root, and entered a dark clearing, where a Nightsaber lay immobile against a massive trunk.

When she was close enough to reach out and touch it, the beast snarled at her and she immediately retracted her arm, bouncing back onto her heels. In a low, soothing voice, she called out to it.

"I am not here to harm you. It seems as if you are injured and I wish to aid you, if you would allow me to."

The Nightsaber's yellow eyes swiveled around to focus on her and Eliana noticed that the creature's enormous side was heaving with every breath it took. Its exhalation was labored, though there were no visible wounds marring its beautiful, sable fur. It must have broken a bone on its side, rendering it unable to move due to the significant pain that such a fracture would have caused.

Slowly, she crouched and crept closer, extending her hand once again, palm up this time in a gesture of submission.

"I am going to try to heal you now. If I do not, you may not survive," she explained softly.

The creature's eyes narrowed at her warily, but it did not growl at her again. Eliana assumed that meant that the beast was choosing to trust her momentarily, and so she placed her hand gently on its side, probing lightly for any hard bumps or possible locations of the broken bone.

When her fingers put pressure on the Nightsaber's third rib, it howled and snapped its teeth at her in warning. She drew her hands back, but only slightly, as she said, "One of your ribs is broken. It may have punctured a lung. I need to heal it, if you want to make it through the rest of your day. Is that alright?"

The Nightsaber did not snap at her again and instead, it laid its head back down against the tree trunk. With a deep breath, Eliana placed her hands against the beast's side once again, and closed her eyes.

"Oh Mother Moon, hear my plea…" Eliana began, as she channeled all of the energy held within her.

Her fingertips began to glow with the soft light of Elune's presence as she prayed, and the luminosity spread from her hands to the Nightsaber. The beast groaned as Eliana worked, though it was not nearly as strained as before. Sweat beaded on the night elf's brow as she concentrated on reconnecting the broken bone. Several minutes passed before the light finally faded, plunging them into darkness once more.

Eliana panted slightly as she pressed on the same spot from before, sighing in relief when the Nightsaber did not cry out. She stroked the large cat's silky fur briefly, before rising to her feet.

"There you are, all better," she whispered, with a slight smile on her lips, as she went to leave.

The giant cat nudged her hand and Eliana turned back to face it, as it continued to push against her palm. Finally, she realized that it wanted her to stroke the bridge of its nose and she giggled as she acquiesced, thinking of how Il'hadras loved it when she did the same thing to her.

"You are most welcome. I have to go now, but you take better care of yourself from now on, hm?" she said, as she strode out of the clearing.

As she passed back through the forest, the trees eventually thinned toward the edge and she glanced up at the moon, gasping when she realized that it was far higher in the sky than it had been when she'd entered the thicket.

 _Why is it that I always lose track of the time?_  she reprimanded herself, as she lifted her skirts and sprinted back towards her house.

When the side of the twisted Alder tree that formed the base of her home appeared, she spotted Cytheas resting against Il'hadras by her front door and she rushed over, bracing herself on her knees as she fought to catch her breath once she stood just before him.

He raised his eyebrow at her and she shook her head at him when she straightened. "Cytheas, I am so sorry. I went for a stroll this morning and I did not realize that so much time had passed," she explained breathlessly.

With a chuckle, he uncrossed his arms and pushed off of Il'hadras. He turned and adjusted the saddle, before saying, "I am not in any hurry-though I am sure your sisters are wondering where you are."

"Oh by Elune, we are supposed to sing a hymn together at the start of the festivities. High Priestess Dejahna is going to kill me…" she trailed off with a groan.

Swiftly, he hopped into the saddle and reached out for her. "Then let us make haste!"

She smiled at his lightheartedness. Despite the drama of the past two weeks, there were moments like these that reminded Eliana why she was so afraid to lose his friendship; he really did know exactly how to cheer her up. She placed her hand in his and he pulled her up onto the saddle behind him, waiting for her to wrap her arms around his waist before they took off for the Main Square.

The lanterns that lined the dirt path transitioned from being void of decoration, to sporting pale blue and silver ribbons, the closer they got to the city. Banners of matching colors, with the symbol of Elune in the center, hung along the outer wall that lined the plaza. The loud chatter of elves in the Main Square drifted to their ears far before they'd even passed under one of the archways leading into the plaza. Once they did, they hastily unmounted Il'hadras, and Cytheas tied her to one of the many posts that lined the paved pathway, in between two other Frostsabers.

Various booths and displays covered by blue and silver tents had been erected and placed around the Square by she and her fellow sisters over the past week. The melodious sound of harp music, accompanied by the deep, hefty thuds of drums, floated through the air, compounded by the cheerful laughter of all who had come to celebrate.

It was difficult, being surrounded by the utter happiness of her people, to remain melancholy and with newfound determination to act exactly as she had in years past, Eliana wound her arm through Cytheas'. The crowd was thick, and she did not want to be separated from him, though he took it in a much different context and his cheeks darkened as he looked away.

Excitedly, Eliana pointed to a booth in the far corner of the Square. "Cytheas, look! I bet you could easily win a prize there!"

He laughed and pulled her along easily, as they made their way over to it. "You cannot fool me, Eliana. You simply want a Frostsaber doll."

"Well of course I do, they  _are_ adorable. I am envious that you are able to take Il'hadras with you anywhere, and I want one for myself! And I know no one better at this game than you, after all," she said, baiting him.

He shook his head at her in jest and said, "Flattery will get you everywhere. Come on, then."

When they approached the booth, the Sister who was operating it held out a ball to them, with an inviting smile on her face. "Welcome Initiate Starhelm! Try your hand at knocking the bottles over."

Eliana waved her hands in front of her in denial, "Oh no, I am not participating, Sister Darkmoon." She gestured over to Cytheas, who reached out and took the ball from the other female.

"Apparently, I am to win her prizes instead," he joked.

Sister Darkmoon laughed softly under her breath, as she stepped aside to give Cytheas a clear shot at the tower of bottles. Cytheas narrowed his eyes in concentration as he reached his arm back, winding it dramatically in preparation to throw as hard as he could. When he swung his arm around and released the ball, Eliana clasped her hands hopefully, only to groan in disappointment when the ball bounced off the edge of the uppermost bottle.

Cytheas stared at the bottles in abject shock, his mouth falling open. Sister Darkmoon stepped up and held out another ball to him with a smirk teasing at the corners of her lips and he quickly took it, his eyebrows lowered in determination.

He repeated the motions from the first throw, but this time, Eliana squealed in delight when the bottles toppled over. A wide, satisfied grin spread across Cytheas' face, and Sister Darkmoon applauded as she reached down to grab a stuffed sabercat. When she held out one with dark fur and silver stripes, Eliana frowned.

"Do you have a white one with black stripes, Sister?" she requested timidly.

Cytheas nudged Eliana with his elbow for being demanding, before explaining, "I apologize. She wants one that looks like  _my_ Frostsaber."

Sister Darkmoon laughed and bent down, sifting through the bag of plush toys before she finally pulled one out that matched Eliana's description. "How is this?"

"Yes! Thank you!" Eliana exclaimed, as she greedily reached for the plush toy.

"Thank you, Sister," Cytheas echoed, as the duo walked back into the crowd.

They meandered through the festivities until they reached a row of wooden tables that had been set up in an empty clearing, with what was very close to a banquet meal, spread out on the surfaces. Cytheas chuckled darkly and he mimicked the motion of rolling his nonexistent sleeves up.

"Yes, this is it!" he exclaimed.

Eliana's gaze flickered from Cytheas' face to the food laid out before them. "The eating contest? You wish to enter?"

"I look forward to this every year, you know that. I lost to Malfurion last year and Elune be damned, I will not this year!"

"Do not take Elune's name in vain in my presence, please. But if you insist on entering, I suppose I shall cheer you on. As well as offer you the waste bin when it all comes back up tonight," she teased.

"Oh please. I do not get sick," Cytheas retorted, before he ran off to the sign up table.

Eliana watched him scrawl his name on the list and he enthusiastically turned around and stuck his thumbs into the air, causing her to giggle at the childish joy on his face.

"And what exactly is it, that you find so amusing, Eliana?" a deep voice asked.

She gasped in surprise and whirled around, blushing when she saw Illidan beside her. "Oh! You frightened me Illidan. I did not hear you approach."

"Clearly," the male teased before he asked. "Are you entering the contest?"

"Me? Oh no, I do not think I could fit all of that in my stomach, even if I had no time limit. Cytheas is entering," Eliana explained, as she pointed to her friend who was sitting down at a table on the other end of the area.

"Is he? My brother claims he was quite the competition last year."

"Mmm. Cytheas has a strong competitive streak, and he claims he will not lose again this year," Eliana said, as she raised her eyebrows at Illidan.

The broad-shouldered male laughed as he shook his head. "My brother said much the same."

Eliana laughed softly and silence fell between the two then, as they observed Malfurion sitting down across from Cytheas. The two males stared intently at each other, issuing non-verbal challenges, and Cytheas rolled his shoulders in an attempt at intimidating the leafy-haired male, who responded by rolling his eyes.

When the horn sounded, they rapidly shoveled the food on their plates into their mouths, their cheeks swelling like chipmunks as they tried to chew fast enough to make more room. Illidan crossed his arms and laughed at the sight, and Eliana glanced up at him in surprise.

He seemed to be in good spirits today. It was rare to hear more than a dry chuckle from Illidan, and she felt privileged to have witnessed two thus far. Her eyes drifted from his visage, to the bulging arm muscle that was right in front of her face, and she quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks darkening.

_Why is it, that every time Illidan is present, I turn into a blushing maiden?_

In an attempt to disguise her embarrassment, she cleared her throat and asked, "So Illidan...where is Tyrande? I am surprised she is missing this."

At the mention of the other maiden, Illidan's face fell slightly which caused Eliana to tilt her head slightly in concern.

"Tyrande claimed that she was feeling unwell earlier. She said that if she felt better after resting for a bit, that she would meet us here," he explained.

"Oh? She seemed fine last night."

"Hm. I am simply repeating what Malfurion told me. I have not spoken to her myself today."

"I see…" Eliana trailed off.

When the conversation lapsed into silence again, Eliana mentally kicked herself. How often did she get the opportunity to speak with Illidan alone? Yet here she was, tight-lipped and awkward, and she couldn't help but wish that she could be more familiar with Illidan, like Tyrande was.

As if sensing her discomfort, he turned away from the spectacle and in a soft voice asked, "Would you like to walk around? I am sure it will be some time before these two finish up."

"Oh, um, that sounds delightful," Eliana replied, her voice so quiet that Illidan almost couldn't hear her response.

They ambled away from the clearing, heading back into the throng of elves and the only sound between them, in addition to the chatter of the crowd, was the sound of their footsteps. Eventually, they came to a food stand and Illidan turned to face Eliana.

"Would you like a moonberry pie?"

"That sounds delicious. I love moonberries," Eliana said with a smile.

"Wait here?" Illidan asked, as he jogged over to the stand's attendant and gestured towards one of the pies lying on the table next to him.

After he handed over some coins, he picked one of the pies up and walked back over to Eliana. "Shall we sit?" he suggested.

She nodded and they made their way to one of the benches that lined the pathway. He handed her a fork and held the pie out to her, so that she could take the first bite. She giggled shyly and took a small portion from the edge, praying to Elune that she wouldn't look like an absolute fool as she ate it. The goddess must have been listening because thankfully, she didn't drop the bite or manage to smear it all over her face-which was impressive, considering how nervous she was.

While Illidan had his attention focused on the pie, Eliana tried to surreptitiously wipe her sweaty palms on her gown, disguising the act by keeping her fork clasped in her fingers. When Illidan spoke again, she nearly dropped her fork onto the ground, she was so tense.

"So how are your studies at the Temple of the Moon?"

"Oh, t-they um, they are good. Things are well. I learn so much every day and my fellow sisters are so helpful."

"That is good to hear. Why did you wish to join the Sisterhood? If you do not mind me asking," he questioned, as he set the pie down in between them.

Only Cytheas and her father knew the real reason why she'd joined the Sisterhood, and Eliana hesitated before speaking. "My mother...she was a Priestess as well."

"Oh?"

"She led the Sisterhood before High Priestess Dejahna. When she passed away, I expressed my desire to follow in her footsteps and at first, my father adamantly refused. I think he wished for me to stay home forever, and to never have to divide my time between him and other things. As the years passed and I grew through my adolescence, he realized that I had been serious about my intentions and eventually, he acquiesced."

"I never knew about your mother. Tyrande never mentioned anything," Illidan commented softly.

"She...does not know about my mother. Cytheas is-was-the only one who did, aside from my father," she said quietly.

Illidan remained silent for so long that Eliana eventually turned to face him, wondering why he hadn't said anything. He was facing her and his amber eyes bored into hers so intently, that Eliana found that she could not look away. After a few moments of silence, Illidan opened his mouth to speak but a voice called out and interrupted him before he could.

"There you two are! We are wondering where you had gone off to!"

Eliana's cheeks darkened at being caught in such an intense moment as she broke eye contact with Illidan and glanced over to the male who had spoken. It turned out to be Malfurion, with Cytheas trailing after him. Cytheas didn't look very happy; his forehead was creased and his eyebrows were low over his eyes when he saw Eliana and Illidan on the bench together.

When Illidan spotted his brother, he chuckled and rose from the bench, prompting Eliana to follow his lead. "Well, which one of you won this year?"

Malfurion laughed jovially and clapped Cytheas on the back, causing the other male to grimace. "Cytheas here finally bested me! Beat me by just a hair too. What was it, half a moonberry pie?"

At that, Cytheas' eyes practically zoomed in on the pie sitting between Eliana and Illidan, obviously shared considering the two pairs of silverware and the missing half of the dessert.

"Indeed," the navy-haired male muttered as he looked off to the side and crossed his arms.

Malfurion sidled up to his brother then and said, "Well, we are off to check up on Tyrande. Enjoy the rest of the festival, you two!"

Illidan glanced over to Malfurion, irritation plain on his face. He bowed his head slightly at Eliana as a farewell and turned to follow his brother through the Square. Eliana shuffled in place and turned back to face Cytheas, who was still avoiding eye contact.

"Congratulations on your victory, Cyth," Eliana said quietly.

"Hm. Not that you were there to witness it," he shot back.

"I only meant to leave for a moment. Illidan suggested walking around and we had intended on returning but we got distracted…" she trailed off.

"I can see that."

"...You are upset."

"Of course I am upset! Did you come here with me or with Illidan, Eliana?"

"That is not fair. You know that I came with  _you_. Am I not allowed to speak to my other friends at all? Please, I do not wish to argue," she pleaded, as her gaze dropped to the ground.

She fiddled with her fingers anxiously, as more and more time passed with Cytheas choosing to remain silent. Out of nowhere, he grasped her wrist and pulled her in the direction of the forest.

"Cytheas, what are you doing?" she gasped, as she tripped over her feet in his haste.

"I do not wish to discuss this in the middle of the festival," he replied, over his shoulder.

"You are pulling too hard."

Hastily, he dropped her arm and continued to stalk ahead towards the edge of the forest. When they were only a few feet away from the first pine tree, he whirled around and stared Eliana down.

"I want you to be honest with me, Eliana. If you care about me at all, you will be truthful."

"A-Alright," she agreed reluctantly.

"Does your heart beat faster when you are with me, or when you are with Illidan?"

Her mouth fell open at his directness and she looked away, as she tried to regain her composure.

"Eliana," Cytheas prompted.

"I will answer you, Cytheas! Just...give me a moment, for Elune's sake," she said with a sharp exhalation of air.

Her silver eyes returned to his before she spoke. "You have always known how I have felt about Illidan."

"Yes, I have. When we were younger, I thought that it was simply an infatuation that would pass but obviously, it never did."

"If you knew how I felt, then why would you bother to ask me?" she demanded.

"Because now,  _I_ am courting you!" he shouted. His frustration was obviously beginning to get the better of him because he frantically shoved his fingers through his hair, and they caught on his top knot.

Eliana was surprised at his vehement reaction. Cytheas was always calm, collected-he was similar to Malfurion in that regard and it was what made him a very good soldier. This was one of the few times that Eliana had actually seen him worked up.

"My feelings cannot change overnight, Cytheas."

A heavy sigh left his lips then and he placed his hands on his hips. "I know that."

"Then why are you pushing me?" she asked gently, not wanting to upset him further.

He stared at her then, his expression less angry and more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him be. "Because I need to know if you think that you are even capable of coming to care for me. I have loved you for far longer than a few weeks, Eliana. I am sorry that...that I seem like I am pushing you. I do not mean to.

"It is just...I am afraid to lose you. You are right-I know how you feel about Illidan, I always have. I suppose the knowledge of the fact that you rarely speak to him made me hopeful. But then, knowing that I had admitted how I felt about you, and then seeing the two of you together today and the expression on your face...you have never once looked at me in that way. Not  _once_ , Eli."

Tears welled up in Eliana's eyes at Cytheas' heartbroken tone of voice.  _This_ was exactly what she feared when he confessed that night. She knew that she should just be honest and upfront with him about her doubts, but she wasn't sure if she could break his heart even more than she already had.

"I am sorry, Cytheas."

"Sorry for what? Sorry for not being able to return my feelings?"

"I do not know!" she exclaimed, as she threw her hands up in the air. "I do not know if I am capable of loving you in that way, rather than as a brother."

"Because you have never tried!"

"I  _am_  trying. I am sorry if you cannot see that."

"I do not believe you."

"Then tell me, Cytheas. What do  _you_ believe is trying? How am I to convince you that I am?" she threw back at him.

Now it was Cytheas that she could not look away from, but rather than a feeling of elation coursing through her it was...fear. She was afraid of the intensity in his eyes, the unpredictability of his next move. The expression on his face was not one that she had ever seen before, and subconsciously, she found herself holding her breath.

She was afraid for good reason, it would seem.

Cytheas closed the distance between them with only two strides and he pulled her into his body so hard, the breath she'd been holding, whooshed out of her. Before she could even process what was happening, his lips crashed onto hers.

Eliana froze. Their bodies were pressed so tightly together, that she could feel every ridge of his hard muscles and his fingers were gripping her upper arms so hard, it was beginning to hurt.

"Mmmf." She tried to speak, but Cytheas was still pressing his lips to hers.

Raising her arms so that her hands were braced against his chest, she pushed him back and he finally leaned away from her, his silver eyes gazing into hers, searching for some semblance of emotion.

"Cytheas, let me go," she demanded in a soft voice.

At the now different tone in her voice, Cytheas swallowed roughly. "Eliana...I…"

"Let...me...go," she repeated, this time from between clenched teeth.

He quickly dropped his hands and took a step back, with a hopeful expression still on his face. Eliana averted her gaze and fixed her stare at a tree trunk in the far distance, on the edge of the forest. Silence passed between them before Cytheas spoke again.

"Eliana, I am sorry. I should not have done that."

"..."

"Please say something," he begged.

"I am going to return home now. I will see you later," Eliana stated, as she turned to leave.

Cytheas grabbed hold of her wrist and tugged lightly as he said, "Can we talk about this? I do not want you to leave angry with me."

Eliana looked back over her shoulder at him, her expression closed and her eyes narrowed. "You caused my anger, Cytheas. I do not wish to speak to you right now. I will see you  _later_."

She yanked her arm out of his grasp then and stalked away from the forest, leaving a crestfallen Cytheas behind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first sign of impending danger arrives. Cytheas and Eliana are still at odds.

Ominous clouds, tinged with cool shades of grey, rolled in from the distance. With them, came the sinister rumble of thunder, and blinding flashes of lightning. Kalimdor's weather varied, depending on where one was on the continent, but Suramar's climate was generally pleasant. It was the reason so many of the night elven population lived in the capital. As of late however, the weather had been vastly different.

Eliana could not remember the last time that it had been so disagreeable. Decades ago, perhaps? She stood on the veranda of the Temple of the Moon, shielded by the eaves above her, watching the overly large drops of rain patter on the stone plaza below. The moisture darkened the surface of the rock, turning her surroundings into a bleak, gloomy place, and she found that it looked much like how she felt.

Since the Festival of the Moon, some weeks past, she had not spoken to, nor seen Cytheas, a single time.

A room in the initiate wing had finally become available, and so she'd moved her things from her father's house and now resided at the Temple. However, she couldn't imagine that her father would not have informed her friend of the new development, and yet still, he had not come by. Granted, she had been the one to deny his advances and abandoned him there, on the edge of the forest that night. But she could not find fault in her anger, and so she did not apologize.

Then again, one had to  _see_ the person in order to do so.

"Eliana? We are starting our lessons now," a voice called out to her, and Eliana turned to see one of her fellow sisters beckoning for her to come back inside.

She nodded in response and pushed off of the column she had been leaning on, trailing behind the other female as they made their way into the classroom.

When she took her seat next to Tyrande, the navy-haired female smiled at her and Eliana tried to return the gesture, though it fell flat in comparison. Tyrande frowned when she noticed Eliana's uncharacteristic demeanor and opened her mouth to speak, but the High Priestess entered the room to begin their lesson.

Both girls faced forward again and over the course of the next few hours, Eliana kept her eyes focused on her notes and the High Priestess. As much as she tried to concentrate on the High Priestess' lecture, thoughts of Cytheas and what had happened between them at the festival kept haunting her, and she sighed in frustration as her pencil scribbled across the paper in front of her.

She knew how Cytheas felt, of course. He had made his emotions blatantly obvious ever since he'd confessed to her. What she couldn't understand however, was how it was so impossible for him to understand the concept of giving her time. They had known each other since they were young and because of that, he knew her better than anyone else, save her father. Or so she had thought.

When she was pressured into action, she tended to turn tail and run the other way-Cytheas knew this. He'd seen it happen first hand, multiple times throughout their younger years. She needed to be able to reach a decision on her own, in her own time. Why Cytheas thought it was a good idea to pressure her into admitting feelings for him, when he knew that she harbored feelings for Illidan, was what frustrated her the most.

Some time later, though it had felt like only minutes to Eliana, the High Priestess closed her enormous tome with a loud thud and said, "That is all for the day. I will see you girls tomorrow. May Elune be with you," and drifted out of the room.

Eliana gathered her things quickly and followed the High Priestess' path. When she was halfway down the hall, quick footsteps sounded on the marble floor behind her and a hand touched her upper arm. She turned and saw Tyrande who looked at her with concern, her eyebrows bunched together.

"Eliana, what is the matter?" Tyrande asked in a soft voice, ever the empathetic friend.

"It is nothing," Eliana responded as she went to turn away, which caused Tyrande to pull more insistently on her arm.

"I know that is not true. Has something happened to make you upset?"

Eliana's eyes fell to the floor as she let out a long exhale. "It...Cytheas he…"

"What did he do?" Tyrande prompted.

"...He kissed me."

"When?" her friend gasped.

"The day of the festival."

"Why did you not tell me? You are upset about it then?"

"Yes, because he did it with _out_  my permission."

A frown tugged at the corners of Tyrande's lips as she replied, "Without your permission? That does not seem like something he would do. It is...rash. Have you spoken to him about it? Asked him why he did such a thing?"

"No. I...I guess you could say that I ran away. I have not spoken to him since," Eliana explained as the duo made their way down the hall, towards their rooms.

"Eliana, it has been  _weeks_  since the festival. Why have you not sought him out?" Tyrande reprimanded.

"What could I possibly say to him?" she asked, exasperated, as she pushed the door to her room open and walked in, depositing her books on her bed.

"I do not know. But at least you could clear the air. Get some clarification," her friend suggested.

"I suppose."

Tyrande sighed as she crossed her arms over her slender frame. "It is your decision what you do, but I think it would be for the best if you at least spoke to him. You are normally together every single day. I could not imagine going that long without speaking to Malfurion or Illidan."

"If I ever see him again, then I shall," Eliana muttered as she sat down at her vanity.

The navy-haired female watched in silence as Eliana ran the fine prongs of her brush through her hair. When the quiet became too much for her to handle, she glanced up at Tyrande and prompted, "Yes?"

"Come for a walk with me. I think it will clear your mind."

"It is raining."

"I believe it has stopped. I can no longer hear the sound of the raindrops on the temple's roof. Come on, Eliana," Tyrande insisted, waving her hands at the other female.

Annoyed, Eliana let out a sharp exhale and said, "I think I am just going to stay here, Tyrande. I want to look over my notes from the lesson this morning. I will see you later, at dinner."

Tyrande's face fell, and she nodded before she stepped back out into the hall and shut the door softly behind her.

A wave of guilt washed over Eliana and she rubbed her temple, frustrated. Ever since her and Cytheas' falling out, she'd been acting unlike herself. She would never snap at Tyrande, or anyone for that matter, and she knew she should apologize to her friend later. Her irritation was unwarranted; Tyrande had only been trying to help.

With a sigh, Eliana pulled her notes from earlier over and began to sort through them, marking the sections that had particularly caught her interest. A couple of hours later, she found that she could no longer focus. The letters began to blur together and she shoved the notes away from her with a frustrated sigh.

It was then that her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her that she had yet to eat since the first meal of the day. In a single harsh motion, she pushed her chair back from the desk, its wooden legs scraping loudly against the stone floors. The temple did not offer meals outside of the assigned times throughout the day, so Eliana would have to venture into the square to find sustenance.

She grabbed her cloak from the back of the door and quickly scampered into the hall, making her way to the veranda. When she stepped out into the chilly night, she noticed that it had indeed stopped raining, though the sky was still overcast. The moon's glow hid behind the wispy barriers.

A cold breeze blew past and she shrugged her cloak on as she hastily descended the marble steps and made her way over to her favorite food stand, just beyond the cubed hedges that lined the temple's perimeter. A large crowd had gathered in the square and it was so thick that Eliana was unable to see what it was that had drawn so many elves in.

After she placed her order, she faced the throng, her eyes wide with curiosity. Out of nowhere, Tyrande popped out from between the mass of bodies and made her to way to one of the other food carts, a few yards away. Eliana tilted her head at the sight, as her friend turned around with haste, a few bowls of food in her small hands. The navy-haired female disappeared into the crowd again, and the vendor of the stand Eliana was at called out to her.

As she turned to receive her food and to pay, he adamantly refused and informed her that he would take a blessing as payment. With a slight blush on her cheeks, she quickly recited the standard blessing and whirled around, trying to find Tyrande's trademark dark hair among the group of elves.

Luck was with her this night, as the crowd began to thin. Apparently, elves were losing interest in whatever it was that lay in the center of the square. Eliana began to make her way towards the edge of the crowd when she then spotted Illidan approaching, and stopped dead in her tracks.

He hadn't noticed her yet and his gaze was fixated on something ahead of him. His eyebrows were furrowed so intently, that the crease in his forehead was deeper than she'd ever remembered seeing it. Likely, he was in an incredibly foul mood.

He too disappeared into the crowd, further to the right than where she stood. With her curiosity piqued, she gently laid her hand on the shoulder of the elf in front of her, silently asking for passage. With an irritated glance in her direction, the female obliged and moved to the side.

Unfortunately, the rest of the crowd wasn't as easy to maneuver through, and as she made her way through the throng, she mumbled, "Excuse me...I'm so sorry, could I pass?...Pardon me…"

No matter how many times Eliana requested that she be allowed to pass, the overabundance of bodies in the square made it impossible to make any kind of progress towards the center. When she attempted to ask the fifth elf to  _please_  move aside, a blinding flash arced through the sky and she squeezed her eyes shut, turning away from the light.

_What in the world was that?_

With newfound urgency, she continued to squeeze between those that surrounded her, and when she finally reached the center of the throng, she saw Illidan, with Tyrande in his arms. A spike of jealousy shot through her, and she chastised herself for feeling such a juvenile emotion in such a serious situation.

She lifted her skirts and quickly made her way over to them. By the time she could reach them however, Tyrande had already straightened and pulled out of Illidan's concerned embrace, and turned to walk back towards the temple.

"Illidan!" Eliana called out as she neared the raven-haired male.

He'd been watching Tyrande's retreating back, but when he heard Eliana's voice, he turned to face her, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Eliana…" he trailed off, his tone unusually wistful and quiet.

"Is Tyrande alright? What happened?" she asked, as she fought to catch her breath.

At the mention of the other priestess, he shook his head and his gaze shifted towards the navy-haired female again. "She can be so reckless with her own well-being at times. It is incredibly frustrating," he muttered.

"What could cause her to be so fatigued all of a sudden?"

" _That_ ," Illidan spat and pointed behind him.

Eliana followed his finger, and when her eyes landed upon the creature inside of the cage that stood in the middle of the plaza, she gasped.

The creature was unlike any other that she had ever seen. It was absolutely massive, and its body was comprised of sheer muscle. In fact, its musculature dictated its size. Its arms were nearly double the size of Eliana's legs, and it was even more broad-shouldered than the twins and Cytheas, who stood at seven foot three-even  _they_  were near the top of the average height range for Night Elf males.

However, all of that paled in comparison to the creature's face. It had a wide, boxy skull with a lower jaw that protruded slightly. Out of that jaw, two large tusks emerged, arching upwards towards the top of the being's head. They were sharp, incredibly so, and sat on either side of a regular row of teeth. To top off its strange overall appearance, it had  _green_  skin, and not the pale green that some Night Elves had. No, it was a vivid, rich green.

"What is that, Illidan?" Eliana asked, her tone a mixture of fright and shock.

"That  _thing_  is a dangerous creature that the Moon Guard found skulking around the edges of the city last night. Tyrande was feeding it, talking to it...She even  _healed_ it," he hissed.

"How did it get injured?" she asked, looking up at him.

His golden eyes narrowed. "It reached out to Tyrande suddenly and I thought it meant to attack her. So...I retaliated."

" _You_  attacked it?" Eliana gasped.

"I thought it was going to hurt Tyrande," Illidan repeated in defense, his teeth clenched

"I am sorry, Illidan. I did not mean it as an accusation," she muttered, chagrined at the thought that she had upset him.

At that, Illidan glanced down at Eliana, his facial expression still taut and closed-off. When she refused to meet his gaze, he sighed and schooled his countenance into something a bit more neutral.

"It is alright. Come, let us move out of this crowd," he said, as he gently placed his hand under Eliana's elbow, guiding her along with him.

Their steps eventually led them back to the food stands and Illidan faced Eliana. "Are you hungry?"

She shook her head slightly. "No, I just ate. Thank you, though."

When he nodded without saying anything in return, a smile teased at the corner of Eliana's lips, and she said in jest, "You know Illidan...I am not sure whether to be offended or not at the fact that, every time you seem to see me, you ask if I am hungry. Do you think that all I do is eat?"

His mouth fell open at her insinuation and he sputtered a response. "No, I...I simply did not want to seem rude if you were-"

A full blown grin overtook Eliana's face and she laughed softly. "I was only joking, Illidan."

He muttered a soft 'Oh...' as his amber eyes fell to the ground. When he didn't laugh at her teasing, her smile fell into a frown. Normally, he would at least throw a sarcastic remark back at her, but it seemed as if his thoughts were elsewhere. A lump formed in Eliana's throat, as she realized that he was more than likely thinking about Tyrande. Hesitantly, she reached out, and when her fingertips grazed his forearm, he glanced up at her.

"You are concerned for Tyrande," Eliana said. It was more of a statement than a question.

"I am sorry, Eliana. I find that my mind keeps wandering. I hope she is alright. I came to speak with her about something and then the whole fiasco with that beast…" he trailed off, his tone full of disappointment and irritation.

This time, it was Eliana's turn to focus her gaze on the ground. Little sprigs of grass had started to grow, peeking out from between the stones that lined the plaza. She nudged at them with the front of her sandals as silence fell between her and Illidan.

When he still hadn't spoken after a few seconds, in a quiet voice, she asked, "Would you like me to go inside and see how she is doing?"

"No, you do not have to do that. I will...I should go find Malfurion instead. Thank you though, Eliana," he said with a tight smile, as he began to walk away.

All that she could manage to do in response was nod, as he was already passing by the crowd again. With a disappointed sigh, she slowly began to ascend the stairs. When she heard shouts coming from the center of the square, she quickly turned around.

Quickly, she turned back and saw that the guards around the cage had swarmed closer, their actions frantic as the prisoner twisted and contorted inside, obviously in pain. She gasped in shock and her hand covered her mouth

_What in the name of Elune is happening?_

Off in the distance, she saw that Illidan had paused at the edge of the square, his gaze trained on the creature inside the cage. He stared at it for a few seconds, his eyebrows low over his luminescent narrowed eyes.

It was his expression that would come to haunt Eliana for the rest of the night. She had never seen him look so...vengeful...before.

He turned then, so sharply that the end of his high ponytail flicked through the air behind him, and strode out of the square and out of Eliana's sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Arenoptara for beta-reading this chapter. Also, thanks to the two guests and 'cancerLicious' for the kudos :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliana gains a new, unexpected ally and things are set in motion.

No matter how much Eliana tried to rid herself of the image from the day before, of Illidan's retreating back as he left the Square in utter chaos behind him, she found that the memory persisted, the visual haunting her dreams.

It wasn't so much that she was afraid of  _him_ —at least, she didn't believe that was the case. It was more so that the display of such power, and his control  _over_  that power, left her awestruck. It was the first time she'd seen his talents at work and it differed so greatly from what Elune gifted her priestesses with, that she thought it might be the contrast that she feared.

But not Illidan himself. Never Illidan.

Like so many other times in her life when her emotions were turbulent, she found herself wandering through the forest with no particular purpose. Cytheas, had they still been speaking, would have reprimanded her at being so carefree with her own safety. She nearly smiled at the thought, until she remembered that they were no longer on good terms.

At that thought, her stomach clenched and she crossed her arms over her chest, her shoulders hunching up.

He had been there for her throughout her entire life. By this age, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, of course, but things felt...empty without him. She no longer had someone to confide in and he wasn't around to tease her relentlessly—she never would have thought she'd miss that.

Most of all, she longed for the moments where they would sit beside each other in complete silence. Neither of them had to say anything; it was their presence alone that comforted one another. There was no one else, short of her father, that she shared that closeness with. That had been what she was most afraid of losing when he'd begun to court her. Sadly, it had ended up happening anyway.

As she wandered along the dirt path, she tilted her head upwards and let out a long sigh as she admired the moon's waxen glow as it filtered in through the trees. She'd been out in the forest for nearly two hours now and Tyrande was likely wondering where she'd wandered off to.

Since Eliana had confided in the older female about what had transpired between her and Cytheas, Tyrande had taken it upon herself to ensure that Eliana was never alone. She appreciated the kind thought, but being surrounded day in and day out was starting to wear on Eliana's nerves. Hoping to seek some solace from her fellow priestesses' pestering, she'd wandered out into the wilderness, looking forward to being surrounded by nature. Out here, the overwhelming smells of the city dissipated, leaving only the sharp scent of pines and bark, which had always relaxed her.

Eventually though, she realized she couldn't run away from her responsibilities for much longer and began to make her way back to the edge of the forest. When she was almost out of the thicket, she heard the sound of a branch snapping behind her and twirled around, her eyes darting back and forth. After her and Cytheas' sparring match some time ago, she'd bought a set of daggers for herself. When she reached for them, she realized that they still sat on her dresser, back in her room at the Temple.

Kicking herself for leaving unarmed—Cytheas really  _would_  have yelled at her then—she started to back up towards the clearing behind her when a sleek, black and silver Nightsaber crept out of the bushes, its tawny eyes trained solely on her. She froze in place, not wanting to set it off with any sudden movements. Though Nightsabers left you alone most of the time if you didn't antagonize them, if  _this_ Nightsaber was feral, she had little chance of survival against such a massive beast—especially with no weapon.

The Nightsaber tilted its head at Eliana before it slinked closer, causing her to lean back, her heart pounding in her chest with every step the creature took. When it stood just before her, it nuzzled her hand with its enormous snout, its prickly whiskers brushing against her arm. A shaky breath escaped from her as she tried to remain as still as possible.

It pushed its snout further into her palm and swiveled its gaze up to meet hers. A low, humming noise reached her ears and she raised her eyebrows.

_Is it...purring?_

Hesitantly, Eliana moved her hand around to the top of its snout and gently rubbed along the ridge. The purring grew louder and when the realization hit that this dangerous predator was currently melting at her touch, she let out a quiet chuckle.

It opened its eyes once more and stared intently into hers, causing a fleeting memory of a similar looking Nightsaber—the one she'd healed in the clearing all those weeks ago—to flash through her mind.

This time, she was the one to tilt her head as she whispered, "Is it really you? Have you been looking for me?"

The Nightsaber nuzzled her hand again and she knew with certainty that it was indeed the same one. Now that she was no longer fearful of it, she could tell that its aura was identical to the one she'd helped. Never would she have thought that it would return to find her again.

"If you'll behave, you can come with me back to Suramar. Would you like that?" she asked.

The sabercat lifted its head and stared past her to the clearing, which Eliana took as a yes. She took a few steps away, to ensure that the cat would follow her and when it trailed after her, she resumed a normal pace and strode out of the forest, the Nightsaber on her heels.

Once she stepped out of the shadow of the trees, the sound of paws pounding against dirt reached her ears, and with narrowed eyes she turned to face the commotion. She placed her hand in front of the Nightsaber's snout in warning and it halted as it glanced up at her. Mere seconds later, a herd of mounted soldiers rushed by, kicking up dust in their wake. Eliana turned away from the path, shielding her face with her forearm. Once they'd passed and the sound of their shouts had dissipated, she watched them fade into the distance as they headed towards Suramar.

_What in all of Kalimdor is going on?_  she thought, before she felt the Nightsaber nudge her hand again. When she returned her gaze to it, it lowered its head and bared its back to her.

"Are you...are you allowing me to ride you?" Eliana asked, shocked that the cat would trust her with something so intimate so soon. It must have been more grateful for her help than she'd expected.

When it remained in that position, she wandered to its side, tentatively tracing her hands along its back to its flank, testing the waters. It didn't react to her touch and so she hoped that meant she'd been right in her assumption.

As gracefully as possible, so as not to jostle the cat too much, she wrapped her arms around its midsection and hoisted herself up, lifting her leg and swinging it over to the other side. Because it lived in the wild, it had no saddle and so she was forced to remain as low and tight to the cat's body as possible, lest she slide right off at high speed. Once she'd settled herself, she leaned down and whispered, "Can you follow them back to the city?"

The Nightsaber swung its hefty frame in the direction of Suramar and began to trot, slowly increasing its speed until they were racing back at nearly the same pace as the soldiers. Eliana gripped the fine strands of the cat's hair as tightly as possible without hurting it. Though the wind was blowing through her hair and she reveled in the feeling of riding once again, she had to admit that she was rather frightened at the possibility of falling off. She'd always had Cytheas to hang on to before and now, she could rely on only herself.

After a few minutes, with her legs and fingers stiff, they finally arrived at the entrance to the Main Square and the massive cat slowed its pace, wary of all of the elves milling about. She pulled just a bit on the hairs she'd been hanging onto and the cat came to an abrupt halt just inside the archway.

She tried to dismount but her knees were locked in place and she nearly fell onto the stone, her face flushing with embarrassment. "We need to get you a saddle, my friend," she stated as she glanced over to the Nightsaber.

The cat was hunched over, its shoulders tight and its head low as it gazed around the plaza, a quiet growl coming from deep in its throat. The Square was busier than usual today and every time an elf passed by, the cat would twitch away from it, its hackles raised in defense. As its stare flitted around the area, it eventually came to linger on the few other sabercats that were tied to the post nearby.

Eliana ran her hands along the cat's head and down along the planes of its shoulderblades. In a low voice she soothed, "Shh, it is alright. They will not hurt you. In fact, they barely even notice you. See? They think you are just like them." She pointed to the other sabercats nearby before continuing, "But y _ou_  are special. You came and found me so that you could help me—no...We helped each other, did we not?"

As she spoke, the cat's tense posture loosened until it finally sat on its haunches, towering above her. It was no longer staring at the other sabercats and the slight growling from before had ceased. She patted its side affectionately and said, "See? It is not so bad after all, is it? I have to return to the Temple now, but I will be back momentarily. You will be alright waiting for me here, right?"

The cat made no motion to move and simply stared down at her in response. She backed away into the street slowly and when the Nightsaber remained in place, she turned away from it and walked briskly towards the Temple.

When she was nearly past the middle of the square, she spotted the strange creature who was still imprisoned within its cage. Its bushy eyebrows were low over its yellowing eyes, which were darting around as it observed its captors. The soldiers she'd seen earlier surrounded the cage and it looked as if they were preparing to move it. They'd maneuvered some of their mounts in front of the wagon that propped up the makeshift cell and many were pointing at the beast, while shouting commands at each other.

She caught a flash of navy hair out of the corner of her vision and her eyes jumped from soldier to soldier, subconsciously searching for who she thought she'd seen. Finally, her eyes fell on Cytheas's familiar form. He was standing off to the side of the cage with his arms crossed over his chest, staring up at the beast inside with ambivalence in his eyes. Another soldier was speaking to him and periodically throughout their conversation, Cytheas would nod.

Eliana stood there in the middle of the crowd, unable to look away from him. The planes of his face looked more gaunt than usual, deep circles darkening the space underneath his silver eyes, and she frowned at his haggard appearance. His face was normally soft and amiable and he smiled easily. This version of him looked harsher,  _angrier_. It was like she didn't even recognize him.

Out of nowhere, he turned in her direction and their eyes met. When he realized who he was staring at, his expression tightened, and she could see that his jaw was clenched so hard that the muscle was twitching.

Not knowing what else to do, she smiled tentatively and lifted her hand in acknowledgement. He dropped his gaze and turned back to the soldier beside him, his mouth moving as he responded to his peer. Eliana's heart dropped into her stomach at his dismissal and a wave of guilt washed over her.

_It is_ not _my fault, it is not my fault…_

Tears welled up in her eyes and she let out a dejected sigh before continuing on towards the Temple. With an unrelenting heaviness in her heart that refused to go away, she began to walk up the steps to the Temple when she heard murmuring coming from just beyond the other side of the stairs. She paused and tilted her head towards the sound. The voices sounded familiar, but they were speaking too quietly for her to pinpoint who it might have been or what they were saying.

Turning around and walking back down the stairs, she wandered over to the side of the Temple, her steps hesitant. Once she rounded the corner, she spotted Tyrande and Malfurion whispering to each other, their postures hunched. Tyrande kept glancing over Malfurion's shoulder and Malfurion was gesturing in the air with his hands, as if he were trying to convince her of something.

Tyrande's eyes flitted over to Eliana and she stopped talking, placing her hand on Malfurion's forearm. He turned around and when he spotted her, he straightened, causing Eliana to feel like a child who had seen her parents arguing.

"Sorry I...I did not mean to interrupt," she muttered.

Tyrande and Malfurion studied each other for a few seconds before Malfurion nodded and turned back to Eliana. "No, your timing is perfect actually. We were...come over here, closer," he beckoned.

She started, surprised at his request and ambled over to them. Malfurion gripped her upper arm and pulled her closer into their circle before whispering, "We have a plan."

"A plan? A plan for what?" Eliana inquired.

"We are going to help Broxigar," he stated.

Eliana raised a slender white eyebrow as she asked, "Who is...Brox..igar?"

At her question, Tyrande pointed towards the creature in the cage. " _He_  is. We have spoken to him and I do not believe he poses a threat to our race."

"You cannot be certain of that, Tyrande. Is that not why Lord Ravencrest's soldiers are here?" Eliana reprimanded.

Tyrande's forehead creased as she tightened her brow. "Yes, but you and I both know that their methods are not...kind. Malfurion believes Brox is important to what is going on in the capital."

"The capital? I do not understand," Eliana replied.

Malfurion shook his head and held his hands out before saying, "We will explain everything later. But we could use your help, Eliana. We need to speak to Illidan."

"Illidan? What exactly  _is_  your plan?" Eliana asked incredulously.

"Let us get Illidan and we can explain it to the both of you. Come, we must make haste. They leave tomorrow," Malfurion commanded before walking away and gesturing for them to follow.

The trio raced through the square and as they passed the soldiers surrounding the cage, Eliana couldn't help herself from looking for Cytheas' familiar figure. He'd moved up to the front of the group and appeared to be instructing his peers as how to pull the wagon. When the three of them rushed past, his gaze flew up and met Eliana's, holding it until they passed underneath the archway that led into the residential area.

When she could no longer see him, she faced forward and stared at Malfurion's back instead. She shook herself to rid her thoughts of Cytheas and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

_What could Malfurion and Tyrande be planning to do? And why would we need Illidan's help?_  she pondered.

The grey bricks that made up the plaza's stonework faded into paved pathways as they reached the residential district. These homes were vastly different from Eliana's own, as they were closer to the center part of the city. Elves who were in higher positions in society called this district their home and their extravagant taste reflected in the facades of their houses. These had much cleaner lines and were more vibrant in color than Eliana's house, which was more naturalistic in style.

Malfurion came to a stop in front of a colossal tree with vivid amethyst-colored leaves which matched the rounded door that marked the entrance to the home. He stepped up to it and rapped on the wooden surface: three quick taps that echoed through the interior. A few seconds passed before the door swung inwards, revealing Illidan in more casual attire than Eliana had ever seen him in. His usual leather jerkin and pants had been switched for simple cotton pants and a linen shirt.

She blushed, embarrassed that she'd tagged along with people who were so much more familiar with him. It felt as if she were intruding on his private life and worried that they were no where near the level of intimacy that allowed for a house call.

Illidan raised an eyebrow at their unexpected appearance. "Brother? To what do I owe this surprise visit?"

"May we come in, Illidan? It is a matter of urgency," Malfurion said in response.

His twin shrugged and moved aside, pulling the door further open. "I suppose. When you put it that way, how can I refuse?"

Malfurion brushed past his brother and Tyrande and Eliana trailed after him, into what appeared to be the kitchen. Dishes were piled up in the sink and Illidan stroked his chin, his cheeks a shade darker than usual.

"I would have cleaned up but I did not know you were  _all_  coming by…" he mumbled as his eyes darted over to Eliana.

_I knew it..._ she thought, her cheeks darkening as well.

"I am sorry to impose, Illidan," she said in a quiet voice, her fingers gripping the fabric of her skirt.

Tyrande chuckled as she said, "He is always like this, Eliana. Do not apologize."

Illidan rolled his eyes at Tyrande's teasing. "I am not normally this disorganized. I have just been too busy to clean."

Tyrande interjected with, "It seems as if you are  _always_  too busy to clean, Illidan."

To which he replied, "She jests. You are not imposing Eliana."

Malfurion piped up then, his arms crossed over his chest and an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. "Unfortunately, we do not have time for jokes. Illidan, we need your help."

Illidan narrowed his eyes at Malfurion and commented, "You are unusually serious today, brother. What is going on?"

With Malfurion steering the conversation back to the reason they'd showed up in the first place, the mood in the room turned far more serious. "We intend to help Broxigar, but we could use your help to do it," he explained.

"I am sorry, who?" Illidan asked.

Tyrande huffed impatiently and said, "The creature in the cage. You remember him, do you not Illidan?"

"Ah yes, the beast. Why are we helping him?" Illidan asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Because I believe he is an integral part of what is going on at the capital," Malfurion continued.

"The capital? What is happening at Zin-Azshari?" Illidan prompted.

"Yes, what indeed? This is where you left off on your explanation to me," Eliana piped up.

Malfurion faced Eliana. "There has been unrest at the capital. Rumors of Queen Azshara acting...different...have surfaced. From what Broxigar has told us, the timing of his appearance and the events at the capital are too close to be a coincidence."

"Why should we help the beast? I mean, what good will it do us?" Illidan demanded.

Tyrande looked over at Illidan with disappointment written all over her face. "He is to be taken to Black Rook Hold tomorrow, Illidan. I have the utmost respect for Lord Ravencrest and his men but...they are not known to be gentle in their interrogations. I fear for Brox's life, should he leave with them. We  _must_  help him."

Illidan's golden eyes remained locked on Tyrande's for a few silent moments. Eventually, he sighed and said, "Fine. I will help. What do you need me to do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the longer than usual wait between chapters. My summer class started recently and we move so fast that I don't have as much time as I used to, to focus on writing. 
> 
> In addition to that, I'm sorry that I updated with a filler chapter. However, I felt that it was necessary to transition into the next. I'm sure many of you recognize where the story is going and though it follows the lore, I promise that it won't be a scene for scene replay. The focus of this story was always meant to be Eliana, Illidan and Cytheas, and it will remain so throughout the rest of this part in the series. 
> 
> Thank you to all of my readers as well as those who have left kudos and subscribed. Lastly, thank you to Arenoptara for beta-reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is formed and Illidan and Eliana grow closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for how long it has taken me to update this story. Promise I haven't forgotten about it.

Over the next two hours, the four of them debated back and forth on the best course of action. Bringing four differing opinions into the mix complicated matters, and most of the discussion was spent circumventing one another as each of them tried to make  _their_  point the most valid. Except for Eliana, who didn't have much to say about the matter at all.

It had been Malfurion's idea to recruit Illidan, but they were having trouble coming to an agreement as to  _how_  to use his abilities.

"I am fine with the idea of subduing the guards, I just do not understand how we will accomplish that," Tyrande stated.

"Illidan can subdue them, can he not?" Eliana asked.

Illidan answered with a nod. In contrast, Tyrande vehemently shook her head and said, "I do not wish to harm the guards. They are simply doing their duty to contain Brox."

"I do not intend on  _harming_  them, Tyra," Illidan replied, rather defensively.

"Well it is certain that we will need  _you_  to open the cage," Malfurion reassured his brother.

Mollified, Illidan said nothing as Tyrande shook her head again, her navy locks of hair swaying from side to side. She lifted her silver eyes to stare intently at Illidan before saying, "You  _promise_  that you will not hurt them, Illidan?"

Illidan sighed, as if he were tired of her lack of faith in his control over his abilities. "I  _swear_ , Tyrande."

Her gaze fell and she studied the floor before glancing back up at Eliana. "What do  _you_  think, Eliana? Can you see any other way we can get Brox out of there?"

Eliana started, surprised that anyone was even asking for her opinion. Her eyes shifted from Malfurion and Tyrande over to Illidan for a brief moment, before returning to meet the other woman's gaze. "I...I think if Illidan is capable of distracting the guards without harming them, as he says he is, that that would be...the best route."

Malfurion placed his hand on Tyrande's shoulder and reassured, "Whatever we decide to do, Tyrande, the guards will not be harmed."

She glanced up at Malfurion and they locked eyes briefly.

Eliana studied the two of them as they communicated their thoughts with a simple look. The conversation she had had with the other priestess echoed throughout her mind. Tyrande had confided in Eliana about her suspicions regarding the two brothers' feelings towards her. Despite what Tyrande had said at the time, their shared moment seemed to imply that though Tyrande didn't realize it right now, it seemed that she  _did_  have a preference.

From where he was standing off to the side, Illidan also saw the moment transpire and he shuffled in place, obviously uncomfortable. When Illidan cleared his throat surreptitiously, Malfurion started, breaking his eye contact with Tyrande.

The druid turned back to the group and stated, "I am going to return to the plaza and get a more accurate count of guards. I will hurry back." He raced out of the house and the wooden door slammed shut behind him.

Tyrande winced at the harsh sound before rubbing her temple. "I am going to lie down for a bit before we head out. Illidan, will you let me know when Malfurion is back and we are ready to go?"

When Illidan nodded, she shuffled up the circular staircase, the hemline of her thin robes fluttering in the slight breeze she left in her wake. Without Tyrande's presence in the room, the fact that Illidan stood not five feet from her and that they were now alone in his kitchen, hit Eliana, and she was overcome with sudden nerves. Her gaze flitted from his to the floor and she absentmindedly played with the ends of her hair, as she tried to will her racing heart to be calm.

Her eyes followed him as he wandered over to lean against the wooden counter. After crossing his arms over his chest, he spoke. "So. What do you  _really_  think about this plan? I sensed that you were holding back your truthful opinion."

"Why do you say that?" she questioned, taking a seat at his small, but by no means shabby, kitchen table.

Illidan chuckled under his breath. "Because you barely said five words the entire discussion. If you cannot say anything nice, then simply do not speak, right? Is that not some type of tenet in the Sisterhood?"

"It is not an  _official_  tenet. I think that Elune just wishes for all of her disciples to be kind and understanding," she replied.

"Yes, but you  _are_  still an elf. Come now, you can tell me, Eliana," he goaded.

Eliana sighed lightly before glancing over to the stairs to make sure that Tyrande hadn't come back into the room. "Fine, if you promise not to tell Tyrande. I...I think this plan sounds dangerous."

Illidan tilted his head at her. "Of  _course_  it sounds dangerous. We are breaking a prisoner out of his cage—that rests in the center of the Main Square, mind you—during the middle of the night. On top of that, said cage is surrounded by Lord Ravencrest's best and brightest soldiers. What part of that is _not_  dangerous?"

She threw up her hands at his statement and exclaimed, "Then why are we doing it?"

His broad shoulders rose and fell in quick succession. "Because Mal and Tyrande believe that the beast deserves a chance to be free, I suppose."

It was her turn to tilt her head at him, studying him intently. Every time he referred to Broxigar, his tone of voice seemed...bitter, almost. Her curiosity got the better of her and she inquired, "Why do you keep calling him that? 'The beast'?"

"Is that not what he is?" Illidan asked flippantly.

"Well, his name is apparently Broxigar. As for  _what_  he is, I have no idea," she replied.

He didn't reply and a minute or so passed before Eliana spoke again, interrupting Illidan's thoughts. "Do  _you_  believe Broxigar deserves to be set free?"

Illidan glanced up from the ground, meeting her gaze. He held it for a few seconds before he responded, "It does not matter what  _I_  believe."

"Why would you think that?" Eliana pressed.

He sighed and looked away, his expression tightening before he spoke. "Malfurion and Tyrande have come up with a plan and so, it happens. Whatever my opinion may be on the subject—" He hesitated before continuing, his voice heavy with bitterness. "—it does not matter."

Eliana lowered her eyebrows at him in dissatisfaction. She never would've thought that Illidan, of all people, would lack in self-confidence.  _Perhaps things are different than I am sensing._

"You do not think your opinion holds value with them?" she tried to clarify, in an attempt to understand him a bit more.

Illidan shook his head and stared at her for a moment, choosing not to answer her question before changing the subject. "It is my turn to ask you. Do  _you_  believe that this 'Broxigar' is worth helping?"

At that, Eliana's gaze dropped to her lap, where she was fiddling with her own fingers. A beat passed before she replied, "I have not spoken to him so I cannot say what I think of his character. However...I know Tyrande, and I think that I know your brother well enough to say that...if they believe that Broxigar is worth saving, then they are likely right."

The side of Illidan's nose scrunched up and he commented, "Then perhaps it  _is_  worth it. What if we are caught? What then?"

"Perhaps I can reason with Cytheas! He…" Eliana trailed off, her sudden burst of excitement fading quickly when she realized who she'd mentioned.

"Cytheas? Your friend that I met once before?"

"We  _were_  friends. I do not believe that we are any longer," she responded in a quiet voice.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"He...I...it is difficult to explain without going into the details. I would hate to bore you with my problems," she said, in an attempt to wave off the unwanted topic of conversation.

Illidan pushed off of the counter and ambled over to the table, sinking down into the chair opposite from Eliana. Bracing his arms on the table's surface, he persuaded, "You would not bore me; I wish to know. Besides, we are waiting on Malfurion."

Shyly, she glanced up and met Illidan's amber eyes, her cheeks darkening slightly at his intense stare. In a soft voice, she began, "Cytheas and I have been friends since we were younglings. We went everywhere together, did everything together...I always believed that no matter what happened in either of our lives, we would remain a constant to one another."

"What changed?"

"The day of the Festival of the Moon...do you remember it?"

"I do. We shared a moonberry pie. Well, I  _tried_  to anyway—you ate most of it," he teased.

Eliana blushed again and mumbled, "I like moonberry pie," before clearing her throat and continuing. "After we parted ways, Cytheas dragged me out to the edge of the forest. He said he wished to speak with me."

Illidan's eyebrows furrowed as Eliana continued. "He was…upset that I did not wait for him when he and Malfurion joined the eating contest—that we had gone off on our own."

"Why would he be upset at that? You have every right to enjoy the festival to yourself. As a matter of fact, you have  _more_  of a right considering how the festival is tied to the temple."

Eliana realized that she couldn't tell Illidan the real reason that Cytheas had gotten upset without revealing how she felt about  _him_. She wasn't entirely sure if that was something she was willing to do at this moment in time, so instead, she lied. "I do not know. To make an incredibly long story short, he kissed me."

Illidan's eyebrows shot up and he remained silent for a moment before saying, "Is that...bad?"

She waved her hand in the air dismissively and responded, "I think in a normal situation where a female was being courted by a male, it would not be bad. However, I have never felt those kinds of emotions towards Cytheas and when he first admitted his feelings for me, I reminded him of that. He has known for  _years_  that I do not care about him in that way."

"Then why would he have done such a thing?"

"I did not know quite how to reject someone I cared for, and so I never said the words. Perhaps he felt that was my way of telling him that it was alright."

"He is your friend, is he not? By now, he should know you better than that."

Eliana opened her mouth to respond, only to close it again shortly after. There was no way she could explain everything in detail without compromising herself. Instead, she settled for, "Perhaps."

Illidan narrowed his eyes at her, as if sensing that she was again holding back, and said, "I am sorry that you and your friend are not on good terms any longer. It is...difficult sometimes, to remain friends when you are the opposite sex. Dynamics...change.  _We_ change."

Her heart dropped as she realized that he'd likely been thinking of Tyrande when he'd spoken. It was obvious to all that Tyrande held the affections of both Stormrage brothers, and the two females had that very discussion only a few weeks before. The brief, fleeting thought that Cytheas might be right—that she would waste her life away pining after Illidan—passed through her mind, before her lips tightened into a thin line.

Eliana hummed in agreement and didn't say anything else in response.

As silence fell between them, she studied his profile as his gaze remained fixated on the staircase leading up to the living quarters. His expression was neutral, his features relaxed. Though he appeared to be at ease, the rest of his posture implied otherwise. His foot bounced against the wooden floors and his fingers reflexively twitched every so often.

She thought back at the way Illidan had referred to Tyrande. His voice always softened when he spoke of the other priestess. Whenever Tyrande was in the room, especially if she reacted to Illidan, his countenance seemed to lift; a simple smile from the woman was all it took to put Illidan in a good mood. Eliana knew that should she ask Illidan about Tyrande, she was opening the door to a discussion that she might wish she'd never incited. But she had to know. If she never asked him, she'd never know the truth. Even Tyrande only assumed that the brothers were vying for her affection. Neither one of them had openly admitted it yet.

With her decision made, Eliana spoke, causing Illidan to start slightly since he was in deep thought. "We are friends, right, Illidan?"

His head turned sharply in her direction. When their eyes met, he raised his eyebrows at her. "I—Yes...I suppose that we are. I cannot say that I have many in my life that I could refer to as a 'friend' but...yes. I would like to think so. Why?"

Eliana hesitated before responding, though she knew she had to finish this conversation, now that she'd started it. "Friends...they...confide in one another, yes?"

Illidan narrowed his eyes at her. "Yes…" he trailed off.

"You and Malfurion...Tyrande...you care about her, don't you?"

Illidan's eyes dropped to his hands as he avoided answering the question. When he still hadn't responded after a few seconds, Eliana pressed on. "Tyrande spoke to me about your childhood together. That you had grown up with one another, much like Cytheas and myself. You were talking about  _her_  when you mentioned that people change, were you not?"

He refused to look up and meet her gaze. "...I was."

"Then you  _do_ care for her?"

Quickly, he looked back up at Eliana, his golden, beautiful eyes boring into hers. He sat up and leaned over the table slightly, and in a low voice, asked, "Why do you wish to know?"

Eliana opened her mouth to respond, only to close it immediately after.  _How do I respond without telling him?_

Eventually, she settled for, "Tyrande is my friend. I only wished to know for her sake."

"You weren't planning on telling her, were you? I wanted to admit my feelings to her myself," Illidan replied.

Now, it was Eliana's turn to look down. "No...no, I won't tell her."

Illidan nodded and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. From underneath her lashes, Eliana studied his face, admiring his handsome features. The sound of his voice, admitting that he cared for Tyrande, came back to her then and a sharp spike of pain lanced through her chest. It felt like the jagged edge of a hunting arrow had been shot straight into her heart.

Pressing the heel of her palm to her chest, she stood abruptly and wandered over to the window beside Illidan's front door. She watched elves pass by as they went about their lives, absentmindedly rubbing her chest, willing the pain to go away.

Minutes passed with neither of them saying anything. Eliana remained by the window, avoiding looking back at Illidan. The atmosphere between them was awkward now, and she didn't have the slightest idea how to break the newfound tension.

_I shouldn't have asked,_ she thought, before looking down at her sandaled feet.

The door shot open and banged loudly against the opposite wall, causing the two of them to jump at the sudden noise. When they glanced over at the entrance, Malfurion was standing in the open doorway.

His chest heaved up and down as he tried to catch his breath, and his forest-green hair was swept back from his face, as if he'd sprinted the entire way back from the square. In a frantic voice, he exclaimed, "We must make haste! There were more guards before but a few just left. If we go now, we will be dealing with only four of them!"

Illidan rose from the table, his chair scraping against the wooden floors. He moved towards the staircase and hurriedly ascended as he called down to them, "I will wake Tyrande!"

Malfurion's eyes followed his brother's form until he could no longer see him, at which point he turned to Eliana and asked, "Wake Tyrande?"

"After you left, she went to lie down. We have been so busy at the Temple and as of late, she has been pulled in every direction. She is exhausted," Eliana explained.

He pinched his eyebrows together, causing his forehead to crease up. "She never mentioned anything to me," he mumbled.

Eliana placed a hand on Malfurion's upper arm and in a soft voice, reassured, "I am sure she simply did not wish to worry you. You know how she is. She likes to take everything on herself."

Malfurion laughed under his breath and said, "That is  _very_  true."

Illidan's heavy footsteps pounded against the wooden stairs and not two seconds after they'd heard him, he reappeared at the foot of the staircase with Tyrande in tow. The other priestess was rubbing the sleep from her eyes and when Illidan glanced at Eliana's hand on his brother's arm, he paused briefly before hurrying over to the door.

"Well? You insisted we were in a hurry, so let us leave!" Illidan demanded as stalked outside.

Malfurion glanced over at Tyrande, as if to ask why his brother was in such a foul mood, and she shrugged before trailing after Illidan. When Malfurion looked over at Eliana, she dropped her gaze immediately and shrugged as well. Malfurion sighed in defeat before following the two of them outside. After they walked out the door, Eliana pulled it shut behind her, meeting the trio in the middle of the street.

Illidan was facing away from her, staring down the way towards the plaza. When he turned, his high ponytail swung around and landed over his shoulder. "So. What is the plan for when we get there?"

Malfurion looked up, lost in thought for a few seconds. When an idea hit him, he lifted a finger and explained, "First, we will need to distract the guards, as we discussed. Then, Illidan, you will need to figure out a way to open the cage so that Broxigar can get out. From there, I will take him—"

Tyrande's eyebrows shot up and she interrupted Malfurion. " _You_  will take him? Malfurion, Brox is most comfortable around me. I think it would be best if  _I_  went with him."

Both of the twins clearly opposed that idea; Malfurion's mouth fell open, his expression aghast at the thought of Tyrande in danger, and Illidan scoffed in distaste. Malfurion touched Tyrande's shoulder gently as he replied, "I understand that you're concerned for him, Tyra. But you are the only one who was seen helping him, giving him aid. If you were to  _both_  disappear, it would be rather obvious as to who let him escape, don't you think?"

Tyrande opened her mouth to reply, only to shut it again. She glanced over at Eliana, hoping for some support in this, but Eliana shook her head slightly and said, "He has a point, Tyrande."

With a sigh, the other priestess nodded and Malfurion continued with his instruction. "So, I will be the one to escort Broxigar to safety."

"What am I to do?" Eliana piped up.

All three heads turned to her, as if they'd only just realized they'd forgotten to assign her a role. Embarrassed at the attention, she shuffled in place as she thought,  _I shouldn't have opened my mouth._

"You...can be...the lookout," Illidan offered.

"The  _lookout_?" Eliana echoed. The lookout wasn't even an actual job, as she was sure that the three of them were more than capable of keeping an eye out for themselves. Being assigned to essentially just stand there and stare at some incapacitated guards made her feel...well,  _useless_.

"It is just as important as being the one to distract the guards, or as Malfurion's job to take Broxigar away. We do need someone to keep an eye out, after all," Tyrande soothed.

Eliana let a small sigh before nodding in agreement. Illidan returned the gesture to confirm that they were ready, and the four of them ran off towards the square. As they traveled, Eliana kept her eyes focused on the back of Illidan's head, watching his ponytail sway from side to side as he moved.

_The lookout...honestly. Does he truly believe that I am that incompetent?_

At the depressing thought, Eliana felt extremely discouraged. She'd all but confirmed that Illidan only had eyes for Tyrande—only ever  _would_  have eyes for Tyrande. Now he'd basically admitted that he didn't think she was good for much of anything.

_This is not the time to dwell on such seemingly trivial matters..._ she tried to convince herself, as their group came to a halt a few feet away from the cage.

Cytheas and three other guards were milling about, gathering the last of the supply crates and placing them behind the cage, on the other end of the wagon. When Illidan spotted Cytheas, he glanced over at Eliana as if he were worried about her changing her mind because of her friend's presence, and his forehead creased. She subtly shook her head and he returned her silent request with an almost imperceptible nod.

"I'll take care of the guards," Illidan suggested as he stepped forward with clenched fists.

He'd only taken two steps before Malfurion darted forward and grabbed his brother's shoulder, yanking him backwards. "No, I will handle it."

_Malfurion? Why is he deviating from the plan?_

Illidan narrowed his eyes for a split second before shrugging and taking a step back. The druid came to a stand-still, his eyes sliding shut in concentration. Not a minute later, a light breeze picked up, ruffling the snowy strands of Eliana's hair. She glanced upwards, confused at the change in weather when she caught the scent of moon lilies on the wind. Her eyes widened in astonishment and she looked back at Malfurion with newfound awe.

Malfurion _is doing this? This is incredible!_

All four guards straightened, leaving whatever tasks they'd currently been doing. Their faces fell into a blank expression and they appeared to have lost all conscious thought, staring off into the distance with wide eyes.

Once they'd remained in that position for a few seconds, Malfurion opened his eyes and a triumphant smile spread across his face. "There!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, that was nice and all brother, but how long will the spell last?" Illidan needled.

"I do not know how long...we must move  _now_! Quickly, to the cage," Malfurion instructed, before sprinting over to the middle of the square. Without any hesitation, Tyrande followed immediately after him.

After glancing at each other briefly, Illidan and Eliana rushed after the two. Once they were standing beside the guards, Eliana paused and huffed, "I shall wait here. I will let you know if they stir."

Malfurion nodded, and he and Tyrande continued on past the guards, towards the cage.

Illidan moved to follow, but at the last second, he turned back and his amber eyes met Eliana's. He hesitated before saying, "Thank you Eliana—for helping, I mean."

She smiled at him, grateful for his attempt at smoothing the waters between them, and waved her hands at him to hurry. He returned her smile before running after Malfurion and Tyrande. The three of them crouched down in front of the cage and Eliana saw Illidan raise his arms into the air, his sorcery enveloping the cage in a vibrant red glow.

Eliana glanced over and realized that she was standing closest to Cytheas, who was still under whatever illusion spell Malfurion had cast. Being able to study his countenance without him realizing that she was doing it, was a blessing at this moment in time. She wished that she could just reach out to him and make everything between them all better, but that was a naive thought and she knew it was likely impossible.

His prominent cheekbones were made even more noticeable by his hollowed-out jowls. It looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep in the past few weeks, ever since that night. Though he always had his hair up in a high topknot—much like Illidan's ponytail, now that she realized it—his forehead was taut, as if the binding was  _too_  tight.

The bottom of her heart dropped out, knowing that it was because of her that he was suffering so much. If only she'd been honest with him from the beginning, perhaps that day at the festival would never have come to be.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she dropped her gaze as she brushed aside the pooling moisture. When she glanced back up into his face, she saw Cytheas' navy eyebrow twitch. With a gasp, she whirled around and called out, "Hurry! The spell is wearing off!"

They'd managed to open the cage door but Broxigar was still within the bars, hesitating for whatever reason. Tyrande reached her hand out to Broxigar, and he scrunched his face up in distrust as he gazed over at Illidan. The sorcerer had his arms crossed over his wide chest, his upper lip curled up in a sneer. Clearly, whatever the creature had said to them, had upset Illidan.

Eliana glanced back at Cytheas and saw him swallow, the muscles in his neck moving, albeit at a snail's pace. She rapidly turned back to the trio and cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting, "Please, hurry! He's starting to move!"

When Malfurion heard Eliana's warning, his head snapped around as he turned to look at her with wide eyes. After turning back towards his twin and Tyrande, she could see his mouth moving quickly as he frantically pointed in the direction of the forest. They both nodded and Malfurion, with Broxigar in tow, sprinted off towards the treeline. They disappeared into the safety of the pines and Tyrande and Illidan hurried over to Eliana.

As they ran past, Illidan reached out and grasped her upper arm, pulling her away from Cytheas. "Come! We must hurry back to my home!"

She let Illidan drag her along until she remembered how she got to the square in the first place, earlier in the day. She wrenched her arm out of his hold and cried out, "Wait! Go on without me, I will meet you there shortly!"

Tyrande continued out of the plaza but Illidan paused and turned back, holding his hands up in the air in disbelief. "Eliana, what are you doing?!"

"Go!" she cried out, before rushing over to the post on the other side of the plaza. Illidan watched her run in the opposite direction before swearing under his breath and sprinting after Tyrande.

As Eliana passed by the cage again, she could see that Cytheas' fingers were twitching at his sides—the spell was nearly completely gone. When she neared her mount, she gently reached out and placed her hand against the Nightsaber's side, trying to avoid startling it once it came out of the spell.

The creature jerked at first, but once it swiveled its head over and saw Eliana, it nuzzled its snout into her palm in greeting. She smiled and murmured, "I am sorry my friend, but we need to leave  _right_ now. May I get on?"

Sensing the urgency in her voice, the Nightsaber lowered its front legs and Eliana swiftly climbed up, swinging her leg over and grasping the beast's fur tightly in her hands. She squeezed her thighs together and they took off, racing past Cytheas and the other guards on their way towards the living quarters on the other side of the area.

When they passed underneath the archway, Eliana chanced a look back over her shoulder and saw that Cytheas could now turn his entire upper body. He shouted over to the other guard, and gestured at the cage with wide eyes. She faced forward again and urged her mount to run faster, her heart pounding in her chest.

_That was far too close_.

They raced towards Illidan's house and the chilled wind rushed through her hair, sending it flying in all directions. Though she was riding her mount, the recent close call caused her breath to come in heavy gasps and she felt a wave of relief wash over her when she spotted his rounded wooden door in the distance.

Dismounting before they'd even come to a stop, she ran her fingers gratefully through the Nightsaber's fur before turning and pushing Illidan's door open. It banged against the wall again, much like it had earlier when Malfurion had announced his return, and Illidan and Tyrande's eyes shot up to meet hers.

Tyrande jumped out of the chair and hurried over to Eliana, grasping her hands in her own. "We were so worried! Why in Elune's name would you run  _back_?!" the other priestess demanded.

"Earlier today, a Nightsaber approached me and I...it's a long story. I'm here now," Eliana offered in lieu of a  _real_  explanation.

Illidan narrowed his eyes at her as he crossed his arms over his chest. He stalked towards her and came to a halt less than a foot away. As he loomed over her, he murmured, "Let's not do that again, hm?"

"Do what?" Eliana mumbled.

"Run off and deviate from the plan, causing everyone to worry about you," he spat, before whirling around and stomping up the stairs.

Eliana watched him go, her mouth falling open in shock at his reaction. When she turned to Tyrande, the other female shrugged and said, "He's been pacing back and forth since we got here. I think he was anxious for you to arrive."

She knew it was silly but...a warm, fluttering feeling within her chest erupted at Tyrande's words and a smile teased at the corners of her lips.

The emotion lasted but a few seconds because Tyrande began to wring her hands in the air, shuffling in place. "Malfurion has yet to return," she muttered, her eyes falling to the floor.

lllidan's voice called down from upstairs. "He will be  _fine_ , Tyrande. We have spoken of this since the moment you and I walked back through the door. If he sticks to the plan—" He descended the staircase and when he came around the bend, he glared at Eliana. "—then he will be fine."

Eliana averted her gaze and cleared her throat before she said, "Illidan is right, Tyrande. Malfurion is capable of getting Broxigar to safety—he knows what to do."

Tyrande paced back and forth, moving her hands from her mouth down to her hips, then back. "I think we should go back to the square."

Both Illidan and Eliana turned sharply to stare at Tyrande in disbelief. "What?!" Illidan exclaimed.

"I just...I want to make sure that the guards do not have any suspicions that it was him," Tyrande explained.

Eliana shook her head at the other priestess. "Tyrande...Malfurion was right when he said that he was the one who should take Broxigar away. The guards know that you have been interacting with him. If we return now, they will be even more suspicious."

"Or it will be the opposite! Perhaps if I make an appearance  _now_ , then they will believe, even more than before, that we were not involved!" Tyrande rebutted, trying to convince them.

"Only fools return to the scene of a crime that they  _just_ committed, Tyra. That would be insane," Illidan reprimanded.

Tyrande rounded on Illidan and accused, "How are you not concerned for Malfurion's well-being, Illidan? He is your  _brother_ —your  _twin_!"

Illidan's expression fell into a fierce frown. "I never said that I did not care, Tyrande! I am simply following the  _plan_! Why is it that everyone is just throwing caution to the wind?! We decided earlier that Malfurion and the beast would head out into the forest. We would then wait  _here_ , until it was safe, and that is when we would meet again!"

Eliana's eyes darted back and forth between Tyrande and Illidan, feeling incredibly out of place. She reached up and toyed with the ends of her hair again as her gaze fell to the floor. They were arguing as if she wasn't in the room, and she didn't know what to do.

When she looked back up, Tyrande was throwing her hands up into the air in frustration. "I refuse to just stand by and wait for Malfurion to show up! What if he needs our help, Illidan?"

"There is no way to know that! We have to wait here so that he can communicate with us. What if we leave and he shows up? What then?" he challenged.

"I will not listen to this any longer. Every second we stand here and argue, is a moment wasted. I am returning to the square," Tyrande announced, sprinting over to the door and yanking it open.

Eliana gasped and reached out to Tyrande but before she could say anything, Tyrande had raced outside and turned around the corner. Illidan grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be a clay pitcher, and threw it across the room, causing it shatter into pieces. Eliana jumped and clapped her hands over her ears at the sudden, frightening noise.

"For the love of Elune," he mumbled, from between clenched teeth.

After heaving a deep sigh, he turned to Eliana and with rushed words, asked, "Your Nightsaber—the one you mentioned earlier. Is it  _here_?"

Eliana pointed out the door to where the massive sabercat was lying down, waiting for her return. Illidan wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her outside, causing a jolt to shoot up her arm. She let out a small gasp and her cheeks darkened when Illidan reached around her to shut the door.

He raced down the steps and gestured for Eliana to follow. She approached her mount and looked up at Illidan, unsure of what his plan was.

Illidan jerked his head towards the square and said, "We need to go after her. Knowing Tyrande, she will do something without thinking, and we cannot risk having her throw the plan out the window. Can we both fit on this thing?"

Eliana glanced at her Nightsaber, who didn't seem averse to the idea of carrying the two of them. Then again, they'd only known each other for a few hours so she couldn't exactly say for sure, and she told Illidan as much.

He frowned but when he looked in the direction of the square, he clenched his jaw and replied, "We'll never know until we try. Since it's most familiar with you, perhaps you should get on first."

"A good idea," Eliana commented, before clambering atop the sabercat.

She hesitated before offering her hand to Illidan. She'd only ever ridden a mount with Cytheas, and the thought of having Illidan sit  _behind_  her rather than in  _front_  of her, made her nervous.

Knowing she couldn't stall any longer, she extended her arm out and he quickly placed his hand in hers, pulling himself up and swinging his leg over the Nightsaber. After he scooted closer—which made waves of anxiety roll through her abdomen—he laced his arms around her waist and leaned down to murmur in her ear, "You've got this, right?"

The feel of his rigid chest against her back made her blush even harder than before, and she was grateful that he was unable to see her face at the moment. With a small, nervous chuckle, she leaned forward and grasped the Nightsaber's fur tightly between her fingers. "This is only the third time I've ridden my new friend. I also do not have a saddle, so...you might want to hold on tight…" she trailed off.

She squeezed her thighs around the Nightsaber, urging it into motion, and they jerked forward as the sabercat made its way towards the square. Illidan tightened his arms around her as they raced after Tyrande, neither of them sure of what they could be running into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Arenoptara for beta-reading, and angelacm for stepping in and helping me round out the chapter.
> 
> Would love to hear your guys' thoughts :3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illidan and Eliana find Tyrande, only for things to escalate into even more complicated territory.

The fine white strands of Eliana's hair whipped around her face in a frenzy as her Nightsaber carried them back to the Square. As she and Illidan rode, her heart pounded in her chest and she tightly clenched her mount's fur between her fingers, not knowing how else to express her anxiety. From the tense muscles in Illidan's arm, she could sense that he was just as upset at Tyrande's actions as she was—if not more.

She couldn't blame him.

Tyrande had, unfortunately, put them all at risk when she deviated from the plan and returned to the Square. Eliana wasn't sure whether the other priestess had truly thought about all of the consequences of potentially exposing the entire group; any and all rational thoughts were overshadowed by her concern for Malfurion.

If the tables were turned and Illidan was the one who was in danger, Eliana couldn't say how  _she_  would've reacted. So, truthfully, she couldn't blame Tyrande for her rash behavior either. Although, she did wonder how differently Tyrande would've reacted if  _Illidan_  had been the one out there, not Malfurion. Judging from Illidan's posture, Eliana wondered if the same thoughts had run through his mind.

After dashing through the residential district, they flew underneath the stone archway, and back into the plaza. Eliana's Nightsaber began to skid to a halt but Illidan didn't wait for it to come to a complete stop before he hopped off the back of the beast.

He raced ahead and Eliana scrambled off of the sabercat once they'd stopped. The absence of Illidan's arms around her waist caused a shiver to run through her. The feel of him against her back had been so warm and comforting, if only for a short, blissful moment. Now, as the wind blew past, her back seemed exponentially colder than before. She shook out the stiff joints in her fingers before she instructed her mount to remain by the post on the edge of the pathway.

Up ahead, Illidan was frantically glancing around the Square, his high ponytail swinging back and forth each time he turned his head. Once Eliana sidled up to him, she laid a hand on his upper arm, questioning, "Do you see her?"

In lieu of a real response, Illidan let out a frustrated grunt and continued to scan the plaza for any sign of the navy-haired priestess. Eventually, his gaze fell on the now-empty cage in the center of the Square and he narrowed his eyes. So that the sound didn't carry, he mumbled to Eliana, "The guards. They are gone. Only two remain and they weren't part of the group that was here earlier."

Eliana turned sharply to face the cage and then glanced away immediately after, so that she didn't appear to be staring. Softly, she replied, "You're right. Cytheas is no longer here either. The guards must've gone after Malfurion and Broxigar."

"Damn it all... _Where_  is Tyrande?!" Illidan muttered, his eyebrows pinched together.

His irritation was contagious and Eliana bounced in place, impatient to locate their friend. Her gaze flitted over to the Temple as she tried to prevent them from seeming suspicious by keeping her eyes roving over the area. A flash of silver-streaked, cobalt hair caused her to do a double-take. She tilted her head up to the Temple's veranda, spotting the very female they were trying to find.

Tyrande was standing beside a colossal marble column, attempting to look nonchalant as she paced back and forth. From their place in the Square below, it looked like Tyrande was staring at the edge of the forest off in the distance, as she weaved in and out of sight. Eliana thought that her friend seemed nervous; whenever she stepped into view, she was either fiddling with the ends of her hair, or tightly gripping the fabric of her skirt.

Eliana tightened her grip around Illidan's bicep to gain his attention and he glanced down at her, his forehead creased in question. Surreptitiously, she slid her gaze over to the Temple, hinting for him to follow her eyes. He looked up and his eyes widened when he spotted Tyrande. He grabbed Eliana by the wrist and tugged her along as he rushed over to the staircase leading up to the Temple.

His frantic speed caused her to stumble on a few of the steps and when they reached the top, he let her go, immediately rushing over to Tyrande. Eliana brushed off her skirts, trying to ignore the pain that lanced through her chest at the sight of Illidan running to Tyrande's aid. She paused for a moment, focusing on regaining her composure before she trailed after Illidan with a neutral expression on her face. When she approached the two, she could hear Illidan's baritone voice—he was already berating Tyrande for her behavior.

"...cannot just run off like that, Tyra! I know that you are concerned but—"

Tyrande held up her hand and interrupted Illidan, her eyes wild and fierce. "But nothing, Illidan! Your brother is out there somewhere, with a whole group of guards chasing after him! Who knows what will happen if he is caught? He needs our help!"

"We had a plan for a reason! If you hadn't rushed off like that, we would have been able to finish this discussion. We only risk Malfurion more if we make stupid decisions!" he shouted, albeit at a slightly lower volume than Eliana was sure he wished to use. Thankfully, the Temple's veranda was less occupied than usual since the sun had begun to rise.

Tyrande vehemently shook her head, brushing past Illidan as she headed for the stairs. With an intense scowl on his face, he darted after her and wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, pulling her back. She stumbled backwards and pivoted on her heel with her mouth open, ready to retort, only for him to beat her to it.

"Stop, Tyrande! Stop this...this  _foolishness_! Malfurion thought it best that you remain  _here_ , and I am inclined to agree with my brother for once!"

"I will not just  _wait_  for something to happen, Illidan. I  _cannot_ ," she stated, ripping her arm from his grasp. She turned back around and headed for the stairs once more, but froze in place when she saw Eliana at the top.

"Eliana! What...you  _both_ followed me? Isn't it even more suspicious if we're all gathered in the same place?" Tyrande retorted.

Eliana stepped forward and grabbed Tyrande's hand. In a quiet voice, she said, "We were concerned, Tyrande. You ran off so quickly and we needed to catch you before—"

Illidan sauntered up to them and finished Eliana's sentence. "Before you did something stupid."

Immediately, Tyrande's eyes narrowed and she faced him again. "My concern for your brother's safety is not  _stupid_ , Illidan."

With that, she sprinted away and down the stairs, her hair flying behind her. Illidan rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. He and Eliana locked eyes for a brief moment before he jerked his head towards the departing priestess. She nodded in response and the two of them sped after Tyrande, who was now at the bottom of the stairs.

Once they reached the bottom, Tyrande pointed at the archway that led out of the plaza. In a firm voice, she announced, "I should ride after Malfurion. If I catch up with him, we can—"

Illidan rushed in front of her and roughly grabbed her shoulders, his face tight with anger. "Tyrande,  _no_. How many times do we have to say this to you?"

Before Tyrande could reply, the thunderous reverberation of multiple paws padding against the ground caught the group's attention, and they whipped around to face the sound.

Lord Ravencrest—in all of his turquoise and silver-armored glory—was leading a squad of soldiers into the Square. The raven plumes of his headpiece matched the shade of his hair almost exactly, and with each step his mount took, the feathers swayed from side to side. He wore a great billowing cape edged with gold trim, and it fluttered behind him in the breeze. His violet skin was close in shade to Cytheas', though much of it couldn't be seen under the bulky plates of his armor.

His mount was equally as unique in appearance as its master, in comparison to the rest of the population. Most Night Elves rode Frostsabers, like Tyrande, or Nightsabers, like Eliana. Lord Ravencrest's mount was a sleek, midnight panther, with fearsome, sharp, elongated teeth. There were no markings on its fur, which only heightened its dark, majestic countenance.

Rattling and clanking of both weapons and armor alike filled the Square as the unit trekked towards the trio. From where they stood, the squad appeared to be on high-alert: their eyes scanned the plaza, and their postures were rigid as they sat perfectly upright in their saddles. Illidan, Eliana and Tyrande bowed respectfully as Lord Ravencrest moved to pass, when he unexpectedly came to a complete stop, commanding his squad to halt.

As the deafening clatter died down, he stared down his aquiline nose at them and when his amber eyes fell upon Illidan, he tilted his chin upwards as he studied the male. Illidan shifted under the commander's intense gaze, and it was then that Lord Ravencrest finally addressed him.

"You...You are Illidan Stormrage, are you not?" His voice was as intimidating as his appearance: low, gravelly, like the deep rumble of a thunderclap that demanded your attention.

Illidan's head shot up and he froze momentarily when he realized that the commander was indeed speaking to him. A second or two later, he'd recovered enough to stammer, "Y-Yes, my lord. I am Illidan. We met once before."

Eliana glanced at Illidan out of the corner of her eye, before dropping her gaze to the ground again.  _How does Illidan know Lord Ravencrest?_

Ravencrest nodded, as if satisfied that he'd been correct in identifying Illidan. He glanced at Eliana and Tyrande and gestured to them when he asked, "And these ladies would be?"

Both of them inclined their heads again in acknowledgment of Lord Ravencrest and when they straightened, Tyrande stated, "I am Tyrande Whisperwind and this Eliana Starhelm. We are novice priestesses at the Temple of Elune."

The mention of their goddess prompted the soldiers behind Lord Ravencrest to perform the usual respectful gesture: they drew a moon symbol in the air and bowed in reverence to the priestesses. Lord Ravencrest was the only person in the squadron that didn't do so, and once his soldiers had finished their ritual, he looked at Eliana.

"Eliana Starhelm...I've heard your name before. Do I know you, priestess?"

Eliana stepped up to stand beside Illidan and bowed again before she responded, "We have never met personally, Lord Ravencrest. I am...I know Cytheas Nightfeather, one of your soldiers."

At the mention of Eliana's former friend, Lord Ravencrest looked up thoughtfully before his eyes widened incrementally in recognition. "Ah yes, Cytheas. That is why your name sounds so familiar. He speaks of you often. I hear you're rather close."

Not knowing what else to say to that, Eliana nodded, and her shoulder brushed against Illidan's bicep. She felt his muscles tighten at the mention of Cytheas, and she pinched her eyebrows together in confusion at his reaction.

The commander turned back to Illidan, showcasing that he was finished speaking to Eliana, and asked, "Say, Illidan. Last we met, you were studying the art of sorcery, yes?"

Illidan nodded, unsure as to where Lord Ravencrest was going with his question.

Ravencrest continued, "You are not yet a member of the Moon Guard, correct?"

"No, my lord," Illidan replied, with caution in his tone.

Ravencrest held Illidan's gaze, tapping his fingers against his mount's reins. "As such, you are not held to their regulations, correct?"

Eliana looked over at Tyrande, who met her gaze with lowered eyebrows. It seemed as if the other priestess was equally as worried as to why Lord Ravencrest would be asking Illidan such questions.

_Why would it matter if Illidan was not restricted by the same rules? What is Lord Ravencrest planning to do with him? Does he...does he know about our involvement with Broxigar and is simply maneuvering his way into having Illidan admit it?_

The Moon Guard was a separate entity from Lord Ravencrest's soldiers. They answered only to the Queen herself and as a result, Lord Ravencrest had no direct authority to give them orders. He could try, but they would likely laugh them off and wouldn't make any attempt to acquiesce. Besides that fact, the soldiers under Lord Ravencrest were exactly that: soldiers. The Moon Guard was comprised of sorcerers. Warriors on opposite ends of the spectrum didn't tend to get along too well.

Illidan narrowed his eyes at Ravencrest as he finally began to understand the commander's intention. Slowly, he answered, "No, I suppose I am not."

A pleased expression spread across Lord Ravencrest's face. Eliana was hesitant to call it a  _true_ smile, considering the commander didn't seem to be the type to smile often, if ever. "Good. Ride with us," Ravencrest commanded.

Illidan glanced back over his shoulder at Tyrande and Eliana, hesitant to accept Lord Ravencrest's invitation because of the situation. How were they to know whether he was including them because he actually knew of their part in the prisoner's release, or whether he genuinely was interested in Illidan's skill?

In a spur of the moment decision, Tyrande stepped up and began to say, "We would be honored to—"

Lord Ravencrest held up his hand to interrupt Tyrande. "No, sister. I speak only to Illidan, now."

Illidan clenched his jaw and tightened his hands into fists at his side. He sidled up to Tyrande and laid a hand on her shoulder as he replied, "I would be honored to accept your offer, Lord Ravencrest."

"Fantastic," Ravencrest deadpanned, as if he had already expected Illidan to accept. He waved to one of the soldiers behind him, and a few seconds later, the soldier led a spare Nightsaber to the front of the line. The soldier handed the reins to Lord Ravencrest, who then passed them on to Illidan. "Here you are, lad. Hop on. We ride for Black Rook."

_Illidan, no! What if he knows and throws you into a cage the second you reach Black Rook?!_

As Illidan climbed atop his mount, Eliana was overcome with the urge to reach out to him—to stop him. Her body lurched forward as if she couldn't control her own actions, and Illidan looked down at her, shaking his head almost imperceptibly to reassure her. Tyrande grasped Eliana's arm in a comforting gesture and both females stared up at Illidan with concern etched on their faces.

Lord Ravencrest signaled for the squad to continue on and the line of soldiers shifted as they moved forward. Illidan nodded at Tyrande as well before he left them behind, and the two priestesses watched the group head towards the Square's exit.

At the last second, before they reached the archway, Illidan turned back around and his gaze flitted over the both of them before settling on Eliana. As the group left the Square, he held Eliana's gaze until he was completely out of sight.

The duo stood there for a moment, waiting for the rumbling ground to still. Eliana twisted her fingers together with tight lips, staring at the now-empty archway, until Tyrande pulled insistently on her arm.

Softly, the other priestess suggested, "Let us return to the Temple until we hear news of either of them. I cannot stand here any longer. I feel as if my anxiety will overwhelm me."

Eliana nodded, completely agreeing with Tyrande. She could stand there all day, waiting for Illidan to return, but it wouldn't guarantee his return. When Tyrande tugged on her arm again, she turned and allowed the other priestess to pull her back towards the Temple.

All they could do now was wait.

* * *

The next few days crawled by.

Every single morning, Tyrande and Eliana would stand on the Temple's veranda and stare out at the forest, hoping for a sign of movement—of  _anything_  that would give them a hint as to what was going on.

They'd taken to following opposite schedules than normal—Eliana could barely keep her eyes open at all times of the day now—and when the  _sun_  rose on the third day and they still hadn't heard anything, Tyrande expressed her frustration.

"Even if we do not hear from them directly, at this point, I would gladly take  _any_  sort of news. There has been no gossip floating around, no one has seen either of them...I cannot take much more of this."

Tyrande paced back and forth and she toyed with the fabric of her robes. Every few seconds, she'd pause and her gaze would return to the treeline, only for her to shake her head and resume pacing.

Eliana shifted in her seat, reaching down to pull the fallen strap of her sandal back up around her heel. After a few tense, silent moments, she looked up at Tyrande and replied, "I know. It is frustrating. I wish we knew where they were, if they were okay...it is some relief at least, to know that if Malfurion had been caught, we would've heard about it by now."

Tyrande nodded but didn't respond, content to simply continue walking back and forth. Eliana sighed and stared down at her hands in her lap. The past few days had consisted of only this: Tyrande worrying and Eliana attempting to comfort her, while inside, she was just as worried as the other female.

All she could think about over the past few days was the way Illidan had held her gaze as he left the Square.

Did he not think that she could handle the stress and anxiety of his departure? Did he think her to be a weaker female than Tyrande? She liked to hope that that wasn't true, but she didn't know him nearly well enough to say for certain.

The day that she and Cytheas had sparred together ran through her mind. Her former friend had teased that Tyrande was better at something than she was, and that sent a searing hot spike of anger through her. It hadn't made her upset  _at the time_ , simply defensive. However, now, in light of Illidan's actions, the overly obsessive part of her personality was going back through her memories, connecting the dots that would justify her negative train of thoughts.

With a slight shake of her head, she dismissed the notion and glanced up at Tyrande, opting to watch the other priestess traipse from one end of the veranda to the other, rather than wallowing in her thoughts.

After a few moments, Tyrande paused and murmured, "Oh Elune, please let Malfurion be alright…"

Eliana pinched her eyebrows together when she heard what Tyrande had said, though she wasn't sure whether the other priestess had intended for her to overhear. In a voice that clearly stated her displeasure with the other female, she said, " _And_  Illidan?"

Tyrande whirled around and faced Eliana, her luminescent eyes wide. "O-Of course I am concerned for Illidan as well. You just...you know how worried I've been for Malfurion—and Illidan, too."

Eliana hummed and mumbled, "Of course."

A commotion sounded from the plaza below and Tyrande, already on edge, raced to the precipice, resting her fingers on the marble columns that lined the patio. She pivoted on her heel and glanced at Eliana, hastily announcing, "They're back!"

Eliana shot to her feet, rushing after Tyrande as she made her way down the stairs and into the Square. Lord Ravencrest's squad, albeit more dirt-ridden and travel-weary than before, trailed into the plaza at an exhausted pace. Tyrande stood at the base of the stairs, wringing her fingers as she frantically searched for Malfurion in the group. Much to Eliana's excitement—though to Tyrande's disappointment—Illidan and Lord Ravencrest were front and center, while Malfurion was nowhere to be seen.

When Lord Ravencrest spotted the two priestesses at the other end of the Square, he lifted his hand into the hair, calling the squadron to a halt. He nudged Illidan, who glanced up at the two females in surprise, and the duo steered their mounts in the direction of the Temple.

They finally neared the priestesses and Illidan dismounted, while Lord Ravencrest turned his mount back towards the squadron, calling out, "We must return to Black Rook shortly, Illidan. I'll give you a few moments though, hm? Make it quick." With that, he nudged his mount and the commander trotted back towards the group.

Eliana stepped up to stand beside Tyrande and Illidan hurried over to them. A wide, elated smile was on his face, which in and of itself shocked Eliana. Whenever she saw him, his face seemed to be permanently etched into a slight frown. Though it was a surprising sight, she couldn't say that it was a  _bad_  one; the grin did wonders for his features, however overshadowed it may be by the fact that he was grasping Tyrande's hands tightly in his own.

In a low, clipped voice, he gushed, "Tyrande, I've finally found my calling!"

The navy-haired female shook her head, confused at his choice of topic. "Illidan, I...I am happy for you. Truly, I am. But what of Malfurion and Broxigar?"

He waved his hand in the air dismissively before continuing. "They are fine. We came across a strange and foul beast in the forest and  _I_  was the one, the only one, who could dispatch it!"

Eliana shuffled in place, uncomfortable at the knowledge that in his excitement, he only had eyes for Tyrande—even though Eliana was standing just behind and to the right of the other priestess.

With her movement, Illidan turned sharply to face her and his eyes widened in astonishment. "Eliana! Have you been waiting with Tyrande for me to return this whole time?"

In the background, Tyrande mumbled, "Yes, we've been waiting for news of you and Malfurion, Illidan."

However, Eliana held Illidan's gaze and slowly nodded. In a quiet tone of voice, she replied, "Yes, I have. I'm glad to see that you are safe. And I am glad to hear that you have found the path that you were always meant to follow. It is...difficult sometimes to find the direction we are meant to go."

Beside Eliana, Tyrande's gaze dropped to the ground and Illidan glanced over at her, before locking eyes with Eliana again. His expression softened, though his eyes were still bright with anticipation at whatever it was he'd yet to share with them. "Thank you, Eliana."

Tyrande piped up and noted, "Then your lessons with Cenarius were worth it! If you were able to use the same powers as Malfurion to—"

Illidan shook his head—a sharp, singular motion—before he interrupted her. "No, not that. Those ways are far too slow and cumbersome for me to wield as quickly as I did our people's sorcery. Lord Ravencrest himself even complimented me on my skills."

Tyrande's expression fell slightly as her mouth formed a small 'o'. She snapped it shut and muttered, "I see."

At that, Illidan grasped Tyrande's hands once more. "I was even able to best the creatures that seemed to focus on those who use magic! It was incredible, Tyra. It was as if—"

Unbeknownst to any of them, Lord Ravencrest had approached from behind Illidan and it was during Illidan's recounting of the events that he cleared his throat to gain the young sorcerer's attention. Illidan glanced over his shoulder at the commander, before turning back to Tyrande.

"I have to return to Black Rook with the soldiers. They'll be showing me where I am to be set-up to aid them with the efforts. Tyrande, I...This is truly the sign that I had been waiting for." He glanced at Eliana and finished with, "I will try to keep you both informed. Stay at the Temple for now, and stay  _safe_ , alright?"

Eliana nodded in return and Illidan mirrored the gesture as he climbed atop his mount, looking to Lord Ravencrest when he was ready to leave. Lord Ravencrest gestured to his squad to ride out and over the deafening rumble of multiple sabercats traveling out of the Square, Illidan turned to Tyrande and muttered, "Now I can finally be worthy of  _you_."

Though the words had been meant for Tyrande only, Eliana had been looking at him when he'd said it and her near-constant focus on him, paired with the fact that she'd been staring right at him when his lips moved, meant that she also heard what he'd said. When they'd spoken all those days ago, sitting at his kitchen table, he'd hinted at his feelings for the other priestess, but hadn't admitted it outright.

Here, now, he had done just that.

Like a knife to the heart, his words killed any and all hope for Eliana and she quickly averted her gaze to the stones below her feet. Tears pooled in her eyes and she refused to look up, for fear of a single one escaping. She didn't hear Tyrande say anything in response and soon, the sound of Illidan's mount faded into the distance.

Despite how much she fought it, the moisture that now blurred her vision streamed down her cheeks. With bitter, harsh anger that was directed at mostly herself—though a small percentage of it was aimed at Illidan—she wiped away the tears that betrayed her emotions, that showcased her inner turmoil for all the world to see.

_I am_ such _a fool._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all for the kudos! Extra special thank you to those who have subscribed :) 
> 
> Arenoptara will be concentrating on other writing endeavors this month, so many thanks to angelacm for stepping in as my beta.
> 
> See you guys next chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliana returns home for a brief respite, and Illidan reaches Black Rook Hold.

By the time Lord Ravencrest and his squadron were completely out of the Square, Eliana had faced forward again, her tears staining her cheeks. No matter how hard she tried to wipe the evidence away, she knew her eyes were still swollen and red. Without a doubt, there was no way she could hide her appearance from Tyrande and when the other priestess turned to say something to her, she gasped upon seeing her friend's face, just as Eliana suspected she would.

"Eliana! What is wrong?" Tyrande questioned, reaching for her friend's hand.

Eliana let her intertwine their fingers as she shook her head and muttered, "Nothing. I am fine."

Tyrande lowered her eyebrows in consternation. "I know you well enough to recognize when you are  _not_  fine. Are you worried about Illidan and Malfurion? From what Illidan said, it seemed as if we have no reason to worry about  _him_ anymore…" she trailed off, her expression clouding at the mention of Illidan.

Likewise, Eliana's lips tightened and she pulled her hand out from Tyrande's grasp. She wasn't really  _angry_  at her friend for having Illidan's affections; she knew the other priestess hadn't exactly encouraged him in that regard. In fact, Tyrande had all but admitted that she didn't know which brother she truly cared for, though Eliana had more than an inkling of suspicion that the other priestess was leaning towards Malfurion. It was just that Tyrande herself had yet to fully realize it.

Nevertheless, the sound of Illidan's name coming from her friend's lips caused a spike of anger to course through her. He'd finally declared his intentions—directly to Tyrande's face no less—and the priestess hadn't even said anything in return. What Eliana wouldn't give to hear those words from him. Instead, she'd merely observed as he gave his heart to someone who likely had never actually wanted it.

"Things could still go horribly wrong and Lord Ravencrest could somehow find out about Illidan's involvement in Broxigar's escape. Besides that, Malfurion is still yet to be found. Of  _course_  we still have reason to worry," Eliana retorted, her words laced with anger.

Tyrande's eyes widened at Eliana's reaction and she hesitated before responding. When she did speak again, her voice was soft. "I am sorry, Eliana. I did not mean to imply that I  _wasn't_ worried. It is so unlike you to speak so heatedly. Are you  _sure_  that you are not upset about something?"

Eliana turned away and stared intently at a building off in the distance. She'd tried so hard to hide her feelings from her friend, because of the knowledge that both Stormrage brothers were vying for Tyrande's affections. She hadn't wanted to get in the way, and besides, she had been trying to figure things out between her and Cytheas.

Now that they were no longer speaking, and Illidan had revealed his intentions towards Tyrande, Eliana realized that perhaps this was when the truth would come out. She wasn't sure whether she could tell Tyrande how she felt about someone the other priestess had known since they were children, let alone someone who had just confessed to her.

"I admit that I  _am_ upset, but I'd rather not say why," Eliana mumbled.

Tyrande reached for Eliana's hand again, grasping it tightly within her own. Quietly, she pressed, "Does this have to do with Illidan?"

Eliana sharply faced Tyrande again and stammered, "W-Why would you think that it did?"

In a tone that was a bit too close to condescension, Tyrande said, "Eliana...I am not blind. I know that you have not confided in me about this, but, I see the way you look at Illidan. Whenever he is around, you...you are  _different_. You were not upset earlier before Illidan arrived, and now, you are. Forgive me if this sounds patronizing but...it does not take much to see why you are upset."

Eliana lowered her gaze to the ground, taking a deep breath before she replied, "I do not wish to speak of this right now."

"But Eliana—"

The sharp sting of tears returning to her eyes made Eliana yank her hand out from Tyrande's again. "I am sorry, Tyrande. I do not—I  _cannot_  speak of this now. I...I cannot return to the Temple today. I will see you tomorrow," she said in a rush and pivoted on her heel, hurrying over to her Nightsaber.

Tyrande did not follow and for that, Eliana was grateful. Her friend had always been exceptionally attuned to when and when not to push, and she was thankful that Tyrande had realized that she needed time alone.

Truthfully, as juvenile as it sounded, Eliana simply wanted to curl into a ball and cry, with her father's arms around her. It likely meant that she'd have to admit to her father everything that had happened between her and Cytheas—as well as her feelings for Illidan—but at the moment, she couldn't think of anything that would cheer her up more than her father's reassurance. Especially now that she could no longer confide in Cytheas, sharing everything with her father would likely alleviate the weight upon her shoulders.

When she stood beside her Nightsaber, she absentmindedly stroked its silky, sable strands of fur, taking a few seconds to compose herself. Once the tears in her eyes had dissipated, she climbed atop her mount and nudged it into motion, steering it out of the Main Square and towards her father's house.

It was peaceful...riding in silence through the forest. The motion of her Nightsaber rocking from side to side as it loped along the path was relaxing, and she felt the tension ease from her muscles. It was only a small comfort though, considering the strain on her mind and the fact that her emotions remained.

She tilted her head upwards, admiring the view. The lush, viridian leaves were tinged with a hint of saffron, indicating that the change in seasons was coming—sooner rather than later. There was a slight breeze today and as the cool wind blew past, it pushed the branches upwards, causing the leaves to sway. The rustle that followed was a sound that had calmed Eliana ever since she was a child. It was almost as if nature was whispering to her, reminding her that things would work out in the end.

Or perhaps it was the other way around, and the image she gazed upon was simply an indicator that change was coming, whether they were ready for it or not. Change in the world, change between friends... _everything_  was changing, and Eliana felt like she was no longer in control of the things that happened in her life.

Up ahead, she saw the familiar, pale bark of the tree that formed her home. The trunk rose upwards into the forest's canopy, its branches meshing with the foliage from the other treetops that surrounded her. She pressed her hands into the side of her Nightsaber's neck, and it acquiesced to her silent request, coming to a halt beside the front steps. It lowered its body so that she could dismount and once her feet were back on solid ground, she ran her fingers along the bridge of its snout, eliciting a soft purr from the sabercat.

"I really should find a name for you sometime soon…" she trailed off as she scratched behind its ears.

After she whispered a command to stay, Eliana wandered over to the steps leading up to the front door, ascending with slow steps. She'd never been one prone to suffer from bouts of sadness, but when it did happen, it was potent. Normally, she'd spend a day or two wallowing in misery and by the third day, she was back to her positive self.

Day one was always the hardest.

She reached for the door handle, ready to push the rounded, wooden entrance open when it did so of its own accord, revealing her father in the doorway. Bouncing back onto her heels, her eyes widened in tandem with his. After a second or two had passed and he'd recovered from his shock at seeing her, a smile spread across his face and he said, "Greetings to you, wayward daughter of mine. Decided to finally come home and see me, hm?"

Her father's words might sound harsh to anyone else who didn't know him, but her father had a terrible tendency to guilt-trip others into feeling remorse. He'd never come right out and say that he'd missed her since she'd moved to the Temple, or that he was disappointed that she hadn't visited since. He'd simply tease her and make her feel bad about it. She hated that habit of his but right now, after not having seen him for some time and with her emotions churning like the sea during a storm, her father's predictability was highly comforting.

For some reason, that train of thought caused tears to well up in her eyes again, and when Ardrias noticed his daughter's stricken expression, he pulled her into his embrace. "Eliana, what is the matter?" he murmured, all traces of jest gone from his tone.

She tucked her face into her father's chest, breathing in the familiar, woodsy scent that she'd always loved.

_Perhaps that is why nature has always calmed me. Father smells like the pines in the forest, and the clear, refreshing scent of running water. It smells like..._ he _smells like...home._

A tear escaped from the corner of her eye, traveling down her cheek until it collected along her chin. Eventually, it fell onto her father's shirt and that's when she sucked in a shaky breath. "Everything is falling apart," she said, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"Oh, Eliana. It always seems that way, but rarely is it the truth," he comforted. "Did something happen to cause these tears of yours?"

"So many things, it feels like.  _So much_  has happened."

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders protectively, Ardrias headed back inside, pulling his daughter with him. He shut the door softly and led her over to the stairs, instructing, "Why don't you go on upstairs? I will make us some tea and when I join you, you can tell me what is the cause of your sadness, yes?"

Eliana nodded and trekked up the stairs, dragging her feet as she made her way towards her old room. When she opened the door to step inside, she froze in the doorway. Everything was just as she left it.

She'd taken a few of her belongings to the Temple with her, but the majority of her things had remained at home. Apparently, her father hadn't felt the need to pack anything up and the gesture only added more moisture to her eyes. It was her father's way of telling her that she was always welcome at home, no matter what happened.

Slowly, she traipsed into the room and made her way over to her bed. Reaching out, she ran her fingers through the soft pelt that her father had draped neatly over her mattress and sighed in relief. In a sudden rush, she kicked off her shoes and they thudded against the ground as she crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She rolled over and faced the window, watching the leaves flutter in the breeze.

Now that she was back in a place she felt comfortable, a place where she knew she could be  _herself_ , she let go. The dam broke and all of the tears she'd been trying to hold back, ever since she'd heard those fated words leave Illidan's mouth, rushed forward. They streamed down her cheeks, wetting the pillow beneath her head and she turned into it, trying to block out the world as she allowed her heart to break.

A few minutes later, the sound of a mug being set down close to her head scared her and she quickly rolled over, spotting her father standing at her bedside. He looked down at the tears in her eyes and at her heartbroken expression, and he sighed as he sank down onto the bed behind her.

He reached out and swept her hair away from her face, asking, "What has caused this grief? It breaks my heart to see you like this, Eli. You are normally so positive, so carefree. This is highly unlike you."

Her only response was a sniffle as she turned away from him again, tucking her arm underneath her pillow.

Ardrias tried a different route. "Does it...does it have to do with a boy?"

"I am not a child, father. You make it sound so...so callow," she replied indignantly.

"I know you are not a child, I did not mean it that way. Last I saw you, you were leaving for the Festival with Cytheas. I can only assume that something has happened between the two of you that is now making you upset."

At the mention of Cytheas, Eliana tensed, pulling the covers tighter around her body. Ardrias must have noticed her reaction because next, he said, "It  _does_  have to do with a boy, then."

She nodded—though he was only partially right—and Adrias let out another sigh. "What has he done this time?"

"...He kissed me," she murmured as she sat up in bed. Truthfully, she wasn't upset over that day anymore. It seemed as if it was so long ago. However, her father thought her tears were due to Cytheas and for now, she'd follow that vein of conversation.

"Is that bad? You left for the Festival with the intention of allowing him to court you, did you not?" Ardrias asked, handing over her mug of Silverleaf tea.

"Yes, I did. But he kissed me  _without_  my permission. In retaliation to something I did, that he did not like," Eliana explained as she wrapped her fingers around the porcelain cup, reveling in the warmth that spread throughout her hand.

Her father remained silent for a minute, before he laid his hand on her arm, prompting her to look at him. "Did you express your displeasure at his actions?"

"Of course I did. He made me so angry that night and I...I told him so, before I walked away."

"I suppose it is safe to assume that you have not spoken since," Ardrias clarified.

To that, Eliana nodded. Ardrias mumbled something under his breath and when Eliana glanced at him in question, he shook his head. With a raised eyebrow, he asked, "That was weeks ago. Why are you crying about it now?"

Eliana dropped her gaze to the mug in her hand, her eyes following the dregs of tea floating to the top of the liquid. Her father had steeped them for too long, as he always did.

"Actually, I...that is not why I am upset," she murmured.

Her father's eyebrows shot up and he questioned, "Then...why?"

She fell silent, not sure if she was ready to admit to her father who she was truly upset about, who she truly had feelings for. Her father liked  _Malfurion_  yes, but he'd never made it a secret how he felt about his twin. Illidan had gained quite the reputation among their people. His ambition, his pride, and his slightly offbeat sense of humor had made him a favorite with some, while pushing him farther down the list of likeable males for others. Her father was unfortunately, one of those 'others'. She didn't wish to hear him speak his opinion about Illidan, because she knew it wasn't likely to be positive.

"Do you remember any of the stories I've told you in the past, about your mother?" Ardrias asked softly, changing the subject.

Eliana glanced up at her father and shook her head, confused. "Which story in particular?"

"The one about how we met."

She tilted her head to the side as she replied, "I vaguely remember it. Why?"

Ardrias held her gaze for a moment before he continued. "Well, I suppose it would not hurt to tell you again. Your mother was not the High Priestess yet at this point in time, and she had a very bad habit of sneaking out of the Temple when it got close to sunrise."

"Somehow, I cannot see mother doing something so rash and against the rules," Eliana noted.

He shrugged. "We were young. Anyway, one morning in particular, I was walking back to town from Black Rook. I'd chosen not to ride my mount there that day because he'd been having problems with his front paw. I did not wish to make matters worse by forcing him to put pressure on it."

Eliana took a sip of tea as her father continued. "As I was walking along the dirt path, out of nowhere, I heard the quick sound of paws hitting the ground. By the time I could feel the vibration in the earth and glanced up, your mother and her Frostsaber were nearly upon me."

She raised her eyebrows at the mental image of her mother, racing through the forest atop her mount, her pale green hair streaming behind her.

A smile teased at the corners of her father's lips when he spoke the next portion of the story. "I dove out of the way. She was going so fast, I doubt she could've stopped in time to avoid me. After I hit the ground, I heard her pulling her Frostsaber to a stop. It had rained earlier that night, and the sudden motion of her mount halting caused dirt and mud to fly up everywhere. I was covered in it."

Eliana covered her mouth as she tried to hide a giggle. This was the part she remembered, because it was her favorite. Her father threw his hands up in the air and in a higher pitched voice, imitated Eliana's mother. " 'Are you crazy?! Who stands in the middle of the path when someone is trying to ride past! I  _should've_  run you over!' "

He shook his head. "I think it was then that I decided she was the most beautiful female I'd ever seen. Her eyes were lit from within by a fire that I never could quite understand where it came from. Her hair was windswept and she gasping for air. She was  _so_  angry with me."

In a soft voice, Eliana said, "She sounds like quite the sight."

Wistfully, he commented, "Your mother was always beautiful." He let out a sigh, before he continued on. "After that day, we couldn't get enough of each other. We met nearly every single day and after a few months, she brought me home to meet her father and mother."

The side of Eliana's nose crinkled up and she stated, "I do not imagine your first meeting with them was very enjoyable."

"Be nice, they are your grandparents," Ardrias reprimanded, though he did so with a half-smile.

Eliana rolled her eyes and her father spoke again. "When we walked through the door, from the second your grandfather saw me, he hated me. I was a soldier, and there are some very common misconceptions about soldiers. He thought I fell into the stereotype and did not give me a chance to prove him wrong. For the first six months of our courtship, he was breathing down my neck at every turn."

"I can't imagine you fit the bill for the stereotypical soldier," Eliana observed.

"Well,  _I_  claim that I didn't. Your grandfather thought otherwise."

"Obviously he came around though, did he not? I mean, you married."

Ardrias held his daughter's gaze and in a quiet voice, admitted, "We eloped."

"You  _what?_  You have never told me that before!" Eliana exclaimed.

"You were young when I first told you this story," he said with a sigh. "I wanted you to retain that belief that things will always work out, regardless of what the situation may be like. Unfortunately for us, that was not the case. Your grandfather never came around. Even after we were married, he barely tolerated me, and it was at the behest of your mother that he did so."

Eliana fell silent, her mind racing at the tidbit of information that she'd never known about her parents before. It also explained why she rarely saw her grandparents, especially after her mother had passed away.

The room fell silent again and she reached out to set her mug back down on her side table. She was just out of reach though, so Ardrias grabbed the cup and placed it on the wooden surface for her.

She knew her father's retelling of that story was meant to encourage her to confide in him and while she appreciated his effort, part of her was still hesitant to admit it outloud. Cytheas had really been the only person she'd confided in, and it was more so because he'd known since they were in their early adolescent years.

A long, tense sigh left her and her shoulders seemed to sag under some invisible pressure. Quietly, she finally spoke. "Illidan admitted his feelings to Tyrande today. I do not think he meant for me to overhear, but I was standing close enough that I caught it."

Ardrias crossed his arms and replied, "I thought it might be about him."

She let out an irritated sigh and mirrored his posture. "Does  _everyone_  know?"

"Cytheas told me," her father replied.

"Of course he did," she mumbled in return.

"I think the better question in this situation would be...does  _Illidan_ know?"

She glanced up at her father again and met his gaze, shaking her head in denial. Quietly, she responded, "No, he does not."

"And why not?" Ardrias pressed.

"He  _just_  confessed—to  _Tyrande_. Why should I tell him? What good would it do?" she exclaimed, frustrated.

"You will never know the answer to that question if you never tell him, Eliana," Ardrias replied softly.

She closed her mouth with a snap and looked out the window again. When she didn't say anything else after a few minutes, Ardrias rose to his feet and grasped her fingers tightly in his own. "Eliana, I know that you are a strong woman—you are like your mother in that regard. However, you are stubborn in nature, and I suspect you gained that trait from me. While I realize that your stubbornness does not allow you to give in and do something that you do not think will have an effect, the unfortunate truth to that is that it holds you back. You will never know the possible outcome if you never take the leap."

Eliana clenched her jaw and didn't meet her father's eyes again. He sighed and said, "I need to go and meet with Cenarius. Will you be here for the rest of the night?"

"I do not know," she muttered.

"Well, I would love for you to stay, if you do not need to return to the Temple tonight. Eliana, this may seem like the end of the world as you know it, but things  _will_  work out," he reassured.

She nodded and heard her father's footsteps trailing away towards the door. It opened and there was a slight pause, in which her father spoke again.

"Eliana...I know that you are angry with him, but you have known Cytheas for nearly your entire life. He deserves a chance to explain himself, don't you think?"

She sighed and nodded again, still avoiding looking at him. There was a lull as her father hesitated in the doorway, and eventually, the door shut with a click that echoed throughout her room.

* * *

**Meanwhile…**

Illidan stared down at the silken, sable strands that were protruding from between his fingers. As if in a trance, he spread his fingers wide, reveling in the softness of the beast's fur. He reached for the leather reins shortly after and grasped them tightly in his hand, his mouth set into a thin line.

The Nightsaber beneath him lumbered through the forest alongside Lord Ravencrest's dignified panther. Behind them, the commander's squadron followed, and the clanking of the metal plates of their armor reverberated back at them from the colossal tree trunks.

They'd ridden straight for Black Rook Hold from Suramar and according to the soldier on Illidan's left, they should be arriving in a half an hour. Since they'd left the city, his mind had been racing and he hadn't been able to think about what might lie ahead, after they reached the Hold. All he could think about was what had just happened over the past hour.

Though he was still riding on the waves of excitement from Lord Ravencrest bringing him into the fold, there were a few thoughts niggling at the back of the young sorcerer's mind that he hadn't expected to find.

Specifically, of a certain female with hair as white as the snow-capped peak of Mount Hyjal.

He'd finally,  _finally_ , admitted his feelings to Tyrande. Eliana had been the only person he'd somewhat indirectly told, and while he'd been nervous to tell Tyrande before, the excitement coursing through his body had overridden his reticence to confess.

Granted, Lord Ravencrest hadn't given Tyrande much time to respond. The commander had pulled Illidan away from her almost immediately after the words had left his mouth—it was hard to say whether she'd been receptive or not. When he'd gone to leave, Tyrande had been staring up at him with a neutral expression, and he knew she was likely concerned for his well-being, considering the events with Lord Ravencrest had happened so suddenly.

After all, who was to say whether the commander actually trusted Illidan enough to integrate him into the squadron?

Illidan himself had considered that perhaps the commander was simply playing his cards close to his chest and wanted him nearby, incase Malfurion and Broxigar were found and he was indeed involved. After the events from earlier, where Illidan had managed to help the squad against the demonic creatures they'd come across in the forest, Illidan was inclined to believe that perhaps Lord Ravencrest  _wasn't_ suspicious. Perhaps he actually intended on putting Illidan's skill to good use.

Regardless of that fact, it hadn't been Tyrande's face that had stayed with him, that gave him cause to wonder. It had been  _Eliana's_ face.

For as long as he had known Eliana—though it was only recently that they'd begun to see each other often—he'd never seen such an expression on her face. She'd looked...crestfallen. Her eyebrows had been drawn low and tight over her eyes; her lips were cast into a deep, intense frown. She had also averted her gaze and hadn't even looked at him to say goodbye, like she had the first time he'd left them behind.

He didn't know what was upsetting him more: the fact that she refused to look at him, or the fact that such an uncharacteristically sorrowful look was on her face. It didn't help that he had no idea when he'd return to Suramar and thus, couldn't ask her for himself.

_I hope I didn't upset her somehow. After all, I told them I'd be back and to stay safe in my absence. Perhaps she was upset that I keep reminding her to look out for herself?_

Illidan grunted in frustration, his mind reeling from trying to keep up with the constantly changing emotions of the females in his lives. Tyrande had been more than a handful while they'd been growing up. Now, he counted Eliana as a friend and as such, he'd come to care about her well-being, too.

Lord Ravencrest interrupted his thoughts and pointed up ahead, to the high towers of Black Rook Hold. "We are nearly there, Illidan. This is your first time to Black Rook, yes?"

Illidan nodded and replied, "Yes, my lord. It is."

"You seem to have been lost in your thoughts since we left the city. Is there something bothering you? A certain female you left behind, perhaps?" the commander asked, his eyebrow raised.

Illidan knew Ravencrest was likely referring to Tyrande, and since that hadn't been the female at the forefront of his thoughts, he cleared his throat and said, "I am simply thinking about what is to come, my lord."

At that, Lord Ravencrest's expression fell into something more serious and he faced forward again, his eyes fixated on the towers ahead. Quietly, he commented, "Yes. What  _is_  to come ahead?"

They rounded the corner and the Hold rose up before them in all of its glory. The facade was intimidating, frightening, and magnificent all at once.

Built into the side of the mountain, Black Rook Hold was comprised completely of the darkest stone Illidan had ever seen. The shade resembled the latest hour of midnight and gave the Hold an eerie appearance, causing the fine hairs on his arms and neck to rise. Directly in front of them, the massive gated entrance to the Hold stood open, awaiting its master's return with eager, but foreboding arms.

Above and beside the entrance, two towers stood with sentries posted at the top. From within the slitted windows, Illidan could see the flickering light of multiple candles. On each side of the towers, the facade of the Hold stretched wide until it returned to the face of the mountain, melding into the craggy surface.

In the center of the hold, high above the tips of the towers, sat Lord Ravencrest's family crest: a single, black raven with beaded red eyes. Its wings were turned upward, seemingly about to take flight. The imagery was both poignant and obvious; Illidan could see where and how the Hold received its name.

Right before they crossed the bridge and headed under the gate, Lord Ravencrest turned over his shoulder to look back at Illidan. The corners of his lips were turned upwards in a proud smirk, as if he'd expected Illidan to be so in awe of his home and his family's legacy. When he next spoke, his words were laced with self-importance and superiority.

"Welcome to Black Rook Hold."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a break from canon! Bit of expository stuff on Eli, as well as a peek into Illidan's head. I wanted to ease into his POV, since the next chapter will follow him :) I know a lot of you expressed interest in seeing into his complicated mind, so I hope you guys enjoyed the small bit at the end! Also, our beloved/not-so-beloved former best friend Cytheas will finally be making a return!
> 
> Lastly, I apologize if this chapter seemed disoriented or unrefined. My regular beta, Arenoptara, has been out this month because she's working on a challenge submission that's due by the end of the month. My other beta, angelacm, happened to break her ankle on vacation (horrible luck!) and I didn't want to press her to beta, for obvious reasons. Rather than wait past a month to update, I thought I'd get this out there and upload a more polished version later on.
> 
> See you guys next time! Thanks for reading :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cytheas returns, and he and Illidan end up setting out together to capture Malfurion and Broxigar. How will Illidan maneuver his way out of this one?

Black Rook Hold lived up to its name, as well as its reputation, in every sense. When the squadron had first approached the fort and the source of Lord Ravencrest's familial pride, Illidan had to admit that it had been impressive. The Commander had every reason to be proud of the place he called home. Now that Illidan was being led through the interior by a footsoldier, he marveled at the fact that his surroundings matched the imposing exterior perfectly.

The windows were comprised of stained glass which cast vivid, rich shades of color onto the plush carpet. With every step that Illidan took, his boots wandered into the territory of another shade, and quite frankly, it was beautiful. Even the carpet was magnificent, and he had to wonder how a military commander such as Lord Ravencrest managed to keep the hold so luxurious and well-kept. After all, hundreds of soldiers paced across these very floors. There was bound to be wear and tear eventually.

As he followed after the soldier in front of him, he noted that the interior had one flaw: there was no lighting. The moon's pale glow, shining through the tinted panes of glass, was the only illumination in the Hold. Sure, he appreciated the aesthetically pleasing aspect of magenta and violet prisms of light cascading into the hallway, but if he bumped into  _one_  more thing…

The soldier came to a halt in the opening of the third hallway they'd passed thus far. As he leaned forward, trying to peek down the way, Illidan raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Do you even know where we're going?"

At the sound of his voice, the soldier started and whirled back around to face him. His eyes were wide as he glanced back at the hallway out of the corner of his eye. "O-Of course, sir! I just...this is only the second time I've been down this hallway so..."

Illidan grunted in annoyance; of  _course_  Ravencrest sent someone who would be just as lost as he would—had he been wandering around on his own—to show him the way to his quarters. Before the commander had sent them in the direction of the personal rooms, he'd spouted some nonsense about having an important meeting to attend. He'd instructed Illidan to meet them in the planning room in a couple of hours and spun on his heel, disappearing down the hall on the opposite end of the main room.

The nearly instant dismissal from who was essentially now  _his_ commander had raised warning flags in Illidan's mind. Ravencrest had been so insistent on bringing him here to Black Rook, that the young sorcerer had expected to be pulled directly into the exclusive circle of command. When that hadn't been the case, he'd been left to wonder whether this was truly a good idea; perhaps Ravencrest didn't value his presence and his abilities as much as he'd seemed to, when Illidan had played a vital role in taking down those demonic hounds.

When the soldier in front of him started walking again, mumbling under his breath, Illidan followed after him with less motivation in his strides than before. Resentfully, he realized that there was no point in stewing over what-ifs or possibilities in his head. What would happen, would happen, and only time would tell him what those prospects might be.

All he could now was wait.

Finally, the soldier stopped in front of a wooden door, with curved sides that led up to a pointed tip. He opened it and stuck his head inside to check whether there were any inhabitants. Evidently there weren't, since he pushed it open all the way and swept his arm in front of him in a dramatic fashion. "I  _believe_ this is your room, sir," he announced as he stepped back into the hallway.

Illidan nodded his thanks and traipsed inside, shutting the door behind him. He tossed his deerskin pack onto the floor beside the bed, before gracefully lying down and reclining against the wall. As his exhaustion caught up with him, his mind drifted.

His first thoughts were of Lord Ravencrest's behavior since they'd arrived at Black Rook. A wave of displeasure swept over him and the corner of his lip curled up into a sneer. He'd never been one to simply lie down and accept whatever fate threw at him. However, he wasn't stupid. He knew enough to recognize that sometimes, the smarter decision was to step back and let the other pieces on the board carry out their moves as you observed. Then, with the newfound knowledge that came with your observation, you could act.

Because of the unusual amber shade of his eyes, he was no stranger to foretelling and predictions. From the time he'd been old enough to speak, he'd understood that he'd been destined for great things. After all, it was all he ever heard. Before his parents had left this world, his father said something to him that had stayed with him since: "Your destiny does not wait for you, Illidan. You must rise up to meet it."

It was one of the few things he'd ever said to Illidan specifically, and not to Malfurion as well.

Of course he loved his brother, but being a twin was difficult. There was no sense of identity, no real idiosyncratic difference—at least, not to others' eyes. If one brother succeeded in something, then the other likely would as well. Especially because so many of them believed that Illidan could excel in anything, simply because of the prophetic color of his eyes. So when Illidan hadn't taken to druidism like Malfurion had, it had been...frustrating to say the least. Every time he failed in a lesson, his father's words would echo throughout his mind. He had felt so torn between supporting his brother, and following his father's advice and finding his own path.

Now that he had, he was elated. But it didn't seem like anyone else understood. Tyrande had never made her disdain for Night Elven sorcery a secret, and though Malfurion encouraged Illidan to study what he loved, he clearly lived and breathed the lifestyle of a druid; he was truly a lover of nature through and through.

Oddly enough, the one person who'd been truly happy for him, was someone he'd only known for a couple of months—an incredibly short time in the eyes of a Night Elf.

When he'd told Tyrande of his advancement under Lord Ravencrest, he hadn't been able to contain his excitement. It had boiled over and he couldn't stop himself from telling her right then and there. Nor could he stop himself from confessing his thus far unrequited love for her. Her response however, had been rather lackluster. At the time, he hadn't paid much attention to it, considering he felt like he was still floating up in the stars. Now that he had a chance to reflect back on it, he remembered her strained smile and her almost disappointed expression. He clenched his hands into fists as a wave of emotion swept over him at the mental image. It wasn't necessarily a sense of disappointment—more so that he had hoped for a different, more positive reaction after waiting so long to confess to her. He'd expected a smile, or words of encouragement, and all he'd received back was...nothing. He felt like a child thinking that it it "hurt his feelings" but to be frank, his pride was smarting; perhaps it  _was_  disappointment.

Then there was Eliana and her unexpected response.

Her soft, encouraging smile had been genuine. Illidan swore that he could practically feel her goodwill drifting over to him, lifting him up and inspiring him to be a better version of himself. Though Tyrande seemed to have smiled by default—as if she'd expected his words and didn't find them pleasing in the slightest—Eliana was exactly the opposite. She seemed... _truly_   _happy_  for him, happy that he'd found his calling in life. In fact, she'd said as much.

The contrasting reactions from one of his closest friends and the woman he loved, to a newly acquainted friend were stark. All in all, Illidan found himself more confused about that entire moment than he did about the current one. His reflections left him with more questions than he'd had immediately after he'd left with Lord Ravencrest. Why was Tyrande so upset that he'd chosen the path of a sorcerer and joined the battalion?  _Someone_  had to step up and protect their home from whatever it was that had invaded their land, and he'd never hidden the fact that he didn't quite take to druidism—she'd been present at their lessons, so she would've known that better than anyone else. In addition to that, why did Eliana's smile and encouragement send shockwaves of joy coursing through him? When had that started to happen and when had he begun to seek out her approval? What did it all  _mean?_

Shouts from outside his door interrupted his musing and he swung his legs over the bed, making his way across the room. When he opened the door, he stuck his head out into the hall, his eyebrows raised. A soldier sped past, nearly clipping Illidan in the face with his armor strap, and he reeled back, cursing under his breath.

"What in Elune's name is going on?" he whispered to himself.

As he stood there watching the soldier disappear down the hall, the clanking sound of armor reached his ears and he looked back in the other direction, only to spot yet another soldier sprinting past. This time, after the second soldier rounded the corner, Illidan stepped out into the hall and shut his door behind him. He jogged after them and since he was following someone who actually knew where they were going, he was back in the main hall in no time.

The entire room was filled to the brim with elves; some were standing along the perimeter of the room, while others were running in every direction. Illidan had to edge between a few of the soldiers as he made his way towards the front of the room, where Lord Ravencrest stood in all of his caped and plumed glory. Even from across the way, the commander's presence was demanding.

When he approached the front of the throng, he spotted a familiar mane of navy hair that was streaked through with ebony lowlights. He only knew of one male elf who had a similar shade of hair to Tyrande, and that was Cytheas.

Illidan found himself reflexively tensing at the male's appearance, and when Cytheas heard Illidan's footsteps nearing, he turned. His silver eyes narrowed when they landed on the young sorcerer and he didn't say anything, choosing instead to face Lord Ravencrest again. It wasn't until Illidan sidled up to Cytheas—brushing his shoulder none-too-gently against the soldier's pauldron—that the other male spoke.

"Illidan."

Illidan kept his eyes trained on Lord Ravencrest when he replied, "Cytheas."

The two males remained silent for a few seconds until Cytheas, in a rather abrasive tone, asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Why don't you ask your commander?" Illidan sniped, and Cytheas' upper lip curled in thinly disguised disdain.

"I imagine he will have more important things to worry about—especially in a few seconds," Cytheas muttered and Illidan finally looked at the other male, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"What do you mean?" Illidan pressed.

Cytheas' tight expression was now tainted with a hint of smugness and a pall of dread settled over Illidan—nothing good could come out of Cytheas' mouth next.

"The beast has been sighted."

Those four words affected Illidan more than he could've ever imagined. Instantly, he broke out into a cold sweat and clenched his hands into tight fists, his jaw mirroring his tense posture. "Has he…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

_Did they spot Malfurion, then? If so...how will we...is he doomed?_

Cytheas nodded. "Indeed. That is why I've returned: to report to Lord Ravencrest so that we may send out a unit to intercept them."

" _Them_? The beast didn't work alone, then?" Illidan played along, trying to goad Cytheas into telling him more information without giving himself away.

"No, he did not," Cytheas replied, his every word dripping with superiority. It was as if he knew he held the upper hand and wasn't afraid to use it against Illidan.

Unfortunately, Illidan knew that to be more true than he would've liked.

It was then that Lord Ravencrest called out to the room, demanding for all of the soldiers to stand at attention. All of them but Illidan snapped their heels together and about-faced, saluting their commander.

"It has been brought to my attention that the beast has been sighted—and rather close to the city, as well. Cytheas Nightfeather has graciously offered to lead the unit that will capture the beast and his accomplices," Ravencrest announced.

"I'm sure he has," Illidan mumbled under his breath.

Luckily, neither Cytheas nor Ravencrest heard his sarcastic remark and the commander instructed, "Five others of you will accompany Lieutenant Nightfeather. You leave in fifteen minutes."

At their leader's direction, the other soldiers in the room dispersed. Cytheas wandered away from Illidan and spoke to a few of his comrades, likely choosing which ones would be fortunate enough to go with him. Illidan narrowed his eyes at the other male, wondering how in the world someone as kind and caring as Eliana, could be so close to such a pretentious, arrogant male.

The sharp rap of a boot heel reached Illidan's ears and he turned away from Cytheas, only to meet Lord Ravencrest's gaze. He inclined his head in a respectful manner and the commander clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be going with Cytheas too, of course. He could use your abilities."

"My lord, I—" Illidan began to say, until Lord Ravencrest interrupted him with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I will not hear any of your protestations—you are going."

A strained sigh left Illidan's lips and Ravencrest held the young sorcerer's eyes intently, until Illidan nodded. "If that is where you want me, my lord, then that is where I shall be."

A tiny smile lifted the corners of Ravencrest's lips—Illidan surmised that he wasn't the type of male to smile freely, if ever—and what could only be described as a satisfied, smug expression, spread across his face. "Good. I expect only the best from my soldiers and I know that you will be vital in bringing that beast and its little friends back in no time. We'll see how it got free then, will we not?"

Ravencrest strode away in Cytheas' direction and Illidan's eyes followed, fixated on the hem of the commander's extravagant cape as it flapped behind him. He tightened his lips into a thin line and mumbled, "Indeed, we will. And what are we to do then?"

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Illidan, Cytheas, and five other soldiers were riding back towards Suramar. Every step that his mount took carried him closer to the beast—and Malfurion. Each time the Nightsaber's massive paws hit the ground, the force reverberated through his body, causing the dread that plagued his mind to grow. He clenched the reins tightly in his fingers. What would happen when they caught up to them and it was very obviously Illidan's brother who stood beside the creature? He held no illusions; that was why Cytheas had spoken so assuredly back at the Hold. He knew who Malfurion was, and reports of his appearance had likely reached his ears already. Illidan could care less about the beast. But his brother?

That was a different matter.

Though they'd never particularly seen eye-to-eye, it didn't mean that he wanted Malfurion at Lord Ravencrest's mercy. The commander was not known to be gentle in his questioning, and in the end, he and Malfurion were still of each others' blood. In fact, they were all that remained of the Stormrage lineage. He couldn't let his brother fall into Ravencrest's hands.

Up ahead, the silhouette of the massive tree that made up Malfurion's home towered over them. The waterfall in the backdrop provided a highly deceiving and false sense of security. All Illidan could remember were the days of old when they'd made their way to Mal's house to relax, after the brothers had a difficult day of learning with Cenarius, and Tyrande had her lessons at the Temple. Now, surrounded by soldiers who only wished to capture his brother, it was a stark contradiction to those memories. A tense, dreadful moment in comparison to happier, more carefree times.

In front of his twin's home was a wide open field, carved through the middle with a dirt path that led up to the rounded, wooden front door. At the moment, the expanse was empty, and Cytheas called for the squad to halt. They dismounted and sprinted over to the row of bushes that lined the clearing, ducking behind them to take cover as they waited. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, the pale glow of the moon the only source of light around them. After trying and failing to wait patiently, Illidan questioned, "What are we waiting for?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Cytheas glared at him for interrupting the quiet, and whispered, "Reports reached us ahead of time that they were running in this direction. We are waiting for them to arrive."

Illidan grunted in response and rested his weight on his heels. Cytheas shifted his weight from one foot to the other and they fell into silence again. After a minute or two had passed, and there was still no sign of Malfurion or Broxigar, Cytheas cleared his throat. Illidan glanced over at him, a silent inquiry in his eyes.

Tentatively, the other male asked, "So how is…" He trailed off and cleared his throat again, before he finished with, "How is Eliana?"

At the sound of her name leaving Cytheas' lips, a sharp spike of heat flared through Illidan and he found himself holding back from punching Cytheas in the jaw. It was an entirely foreign emotion to Illidan and he was left confused and angry, all at the same time. From between clenched teeth, he muttered, "She is fine."

_Why is it that him asking about her well-being makes me so...angry? Perhaps it is because she has said that they are no longer friends; perhaps I feel that he has no right to ask about her…_

_After all,_ he _was the one who overstepped the bounds of their friendship. Is that why I feel so protective of her, when it comes to him?_

Cytheas hummed, though whether it was in approval or disapproval, Illidan couldn't say. A few seconds later, Cytheas continued speaking. "I haven't seen her since the Festival. I mean, I've  _seen_ her—I caught a glimpse of her the other day in the Square—but we haven't spoken. At all."

"I am sorry to hear that," Illidan deadpanned.

Truthfully, he wasn't. He felt for Eliana and the fact that she mourned the loss of her lifelong friendship, but ever since he'd first met Cytheas, he'd never exactly harbored friendly feelings towards the male. Eliana's recollection of what had happened between them, after she and Illidan had parted ways on the day of the Festival, cemented his opinion of her "friend". It morphed from apathy to an intense dislike, and the more time he spent with her, the less he seemed to like Cytheas.

Cytheas faced Illidan sharply, his eyes narrowing at the young sorcerer's tone. He opened his mouth to speak again, but as if on cue, the sound of the underbrush rustling reached them and rapidly increased in volume. Their conversation was forgotten for the moment and in a single, sharp motion, Cytheas directed the group to head to their left. Unsheathing their weapons, the five soldiers rose in tandem and sprinted off into the forest, with Cytheas and Illidan on their heels. They burst out into a small glade and in front of them, frozen in their tracks with their weapons at the ready, was Malfurion, Broxigar, and a red-headed male that Illidan did not recognize.

Cytheas pointed the tip of his sword at them and commanded, "Now, Illidan!"

The other male's shout startled Illidan into action and he raised his hands, channeling his sorcery into his fingertips. Warmth traveled down his fingers and left him in tendrils of red, magical energy, enveloping all three of them in a shroud of paralysis.

Once they were detained, Cytheas stepped forward and clapped Illidan on the shoulder as the sorcerer wiped the sweat from his brow—he was naturally gifted in magic, yes, but it still drained him quite a bit every time he used it. When their gazes met, Cytheas held Illidan's, his eyebrow quirked upwards as he complimented, "Well done, Illidan. Well done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to angelacm and Arenoptara for beta-reading. The next chapter will likely be in Illidan's POV as well :) I find that I enjoy writing for him much more than anticipated.
> 
> You guys might've noticed that I deviated from canon in this chapter. In the books, Lord Ravencrest and a whole band of soldiers, including Illidan, are the ones who capture Mal, Brox and Rhonin. I chose to have it be a bit more intimate, with just Cytheas, Illidan, and five soldiers along for the ride. When they return to the Hold, it'll hop back in tandem with original lore. I also inserted a bit of creative liberty in reference to Illidan and Malfurion's parents. To my knowledge, they're never mentioned in canon and since they aren't around, I assume they passed some time ago. I wanted to kind of link Illidan's ever-present feeling of being outside the circle of his peers, to a bit of his past. Feel free to correct me and let me know if lore says otherwise! The next chapter is also likely to be in Illidan's POV. I enjoy writing for him much more than anticipated.
> 
> See you guys next time!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The invasion of the Burning Legion officially begins.

Black Rook Hold loomed before them, and its massive, shadowy facade sent a surge of anxiety through Illidan. They had succeeded and brought the prisoners back to the Hold, but when his own brother—his  _twin_ —was in their midst, he couldn't foresee this ending well. The expansive gates marking the entrance to the inner courtyard swung wide open, welcoming the group back into the Hold's dark embrace. Once they were inside, the troops dismounted without speaking a single word, handing the reins over to the stable boy. The air was thick with tension, and Illidan assumed that was what held the soldiers back from their usual banter. It wasn't difficult to surmise the reason why, and Illidan's gaze wandered over to where the prisoners stood, just behind the soldiers.

Malfurion.

Even though he had yet to verbally acknowledge his brother's presence, it was obvious to any who looked upon them that they were twins. Their hair was different shades, and their eyes glowed a different color, but the firm set of their mouths and their postures were identical. Both males towered above the other soldiers, save Cytheas, and the broad expanse of their shoulders cut an intimidating presence.

As they headed inside to face Lord Ravencrest, Illidan found himself wondering how he could possibly save his brother's life when all seemed to be hopeless. After all, Malfurion had been found in Broxigar's presence. Considering the way the beast had escaped, Illidan doubted that the commander would believe that his twin had been coerced into helping. Though he knew with absolute certainty that his brother would never give  _him_ up, a twinge of guilt shot through him at the knowledge that he wasn't quite sure whether he would do the same.

The price of freedom was always high, war or no war.

_No._

With a firm shake of his head, Illidan dispelled that disturbing thought. Malfurion was his  _brother_ : of course he would do all that he could to ensure that his twin would remain free and innocent.

The soldiers flanked the prisoners while Illidan moved ahead to stand beside Cytheas at the front of the procession. They made their way into the Hold and back into the main hall, where Lord Ravencrest stood waiting. His flowing, turquoise cape offered a stark contrast to his armored silhouette, and he had his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ever the picture of regal patience. However, his narrowed eyes, clenched jaw, and the way his other hand was tightened into a fist, spoke otherwise.

Along the walls of the room, a plethora of soldiers stood at attention, obviously to impose upon the prisoners the true force of Ravencrest's wrath. When the group stood just before the commander, Ravencrest sank down into his seat of stone, allowing him to look down upon them, even while sitting. He motioned to both Cytheas and Illidan, and they stepped forward to stand near the commander: Illidan moved to his right, whereas Cytheas joined the soldiers on his other side. The other five soldiers who had accompanied them on the excursion wandered off to join their comrades along the perimeter of the room, which left Malfurion, Broxigar, and the strange red-headed male standing before Ravencrest.

Before the commander had a chance to speak, two robed figures stepped forth from the shadows, displeasure marring their otherwise smooth complexions. So that the prisoners wouldn't overhear their discussion, they ascended the short flight of steps to stand just in front of Lord Ravencrest, leaning down to speak to him in confidence. Since Illidan was standing just to the right of the commander's chair, he could hear every word.

"My lord, we would still prefer it if you handed the prisoners over to the Moon Guard for questioning," one of the figures murmured.

Ravencrest made a dismissive motion with his hand. "You've already lost the prisoner once. If I handed him over to you, he'd simply end up back at Black Rook. I am doing the Moon Guard a favor by expediting the process."

The members of the Moon Guard glanced at each other, before looking back at Lord Ravencrest. Instead of giving them time to respond, the commander glanced up at Illidan and said, "I would hear from  _you_ , Illidan."

He straightened. "My lord?"

"Go on, then."

Illidan cleared his throat and finally looked at the three figures standing just below the steps. Malfurion had clearly been waiting for Illidan to look his way, for their eyes met almost immediately. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, Malfurion broke eye contact and his eyes fell to the stone floor below his feet.

He received his brother's message as clearly as if Malfurion had spoken aloud.  _Do not tell them anything that will incriminate you as well._

That very same thought had flitted through his mind only moments before, and now that he was faced with the actual decisive moment, he knew he couldn't do as Malfurion asked of him. After letting out a quiet sigh, he turned back to Lord Ravencrest. "My lord, one of the prisoners is...my brother."

At that, Malfurion's head snapped back up and he narrowed his eyes at Illidan, who pointedly ignored his brother's gaze. Ravencrest chuckled—it was a low, nearly silent exhalation of air—and noted, "That is obvious to anyone who lays eyes on the pair of you."

Afterwards, Ravencrest's gaze fell on Illidan's twin. "Though I am often here at the Hold, I do not remain oblivious to life in the cities. Your name is Malfurion, am I right?"

Malfurion inclined his head in respectful agreement to the question, and Ravencrest continued. "And you freed this prisoner?"

After a glance at Illidan, Malfurion replied, "I did."

"I would hope that you'd have a good reason for doing so; a reason that justifies the betrayal of your own people, for a creature none of us know to be an ally," Ravencrest commented.

Illidan cringed at the implication in the commander's voice. Ravencrest had never been one to dally with words, and if that was his impression of the situation—which admittedly, wasn't far from the truth—then clearing his brother's name would be more difficult than he'd hoped it would be.

Malfurion's gaze dropped to the floor, before he looked back up at Ravencrest again. "I'm not sure that you would believe the reason, my lord—even if I did tell you."

The corner of Ravencrest's lips quirked upwards, and he gestured at Malfurion. "So long as you are honest, we shall see what I end up believing."

Per the commander's cue, Malfurion dove right into the story. He spoke of his work with Cenarius, which took the rest of the elves in the room by surprise. Most of the elven people didn't believe that Cenarius actually existed. However, from there, his brother's tale became more and more fantastical; Malfurion spoke of the complications that had been happening at the Well of Eternity, and in turn, Zin-Azshari.

Once Malfurion finished speaking, the room fell silent. When Illidan looked around, most of the soldiers were looking at Malfurion with doubtful expressions; their eyebrows were drawn tight, they spoke in hushed murmurs, and many of them were avoiding eye contact with him. Illidan clenched his jaw, afraid that the worst would now occur. If Lord Ravencrest condemned Malfurion to the holding cells below, there would be nothing he could do for his brother—short of freeing him in the same way they'd freed Broxigar.

Lord Ravencrest conferred with the Moon Guard briefly, and the two sorcerers shared with the room that though the Well had indeed been more turbulent as of late, it was hard to discern the exact reason why. When Lord Ravencrest looked at Malfurion once more, he asked, "So then. What exactly does your story have to do with freeing the prisoner?"

At that, the red-headed male stepped forward. "I can perhaps answer that better than he can."

Illidan raised an eyebrow at the stranger, thinking that perhaps his input would hurt more than help. The majority of the Night Elves were suspicious of any outside races, believing them to have no business in their affairs. To his surprise, Lord Ravencrest seemed willing to listen to the stranger, and waved a hand in the male's direction.

The stranger—who looked so much like their race, and yet not—nodded, and proceeded to explain the workings of a portal, one which had brought both he and Broxigar there. In his opinion, the portal and the Well's disturbance were too closely tied to be a coincidence.

Apparently, that explanation wasn't good enough for the Moon Guard—considering that it explained the stranger and the creature's appearances, but not the reason behind Malfurion's assistance—and they suggested that an investigation be conducted by one of them. Illidan curled his hands into tight fists, distressed by that suggestion. The Moon Guard's version of an interrogation involved delving into the prisoner's mind, and searching through every memory for the piece of information they needed. Often, it left the prisoner weak and disoriented, and at an extreme, could turn them into a hollow shell of who they'd once been. He wasn't sure if he trusted these sorcerers with his brother.

Lord Ravencrest agreed with the Moon Guard on the interrogation, but to Illidan's surprise, the commander then turned to him. "What do you think, Illidan? Are  _you_ capable of proving to us that  _all_  your brother says is true?"

Illidan had faith in his abilities, but he'd never conducted an interrogation before, let alone on someone so close to him. Emotion could cloud his judgment and the spell could easily go awry.

He hesitated before answering, and it was then that one of the Moon Guard stepped forward. "All matters regarding magic are to fall to the Moon Guard! To have an unauthorized sorcerer—who is the brother of one of the prisoners, no less—do the questioning, is absolutely preposterous! Not to mention unlawful."

The sorcerer glared at Illidan in disapproval, and Illidan didn't hesitate to return the disdain in kind. When the other member of the Moon Guard stepped forward, Illidan darted past him, heading for Malfurion. If Ravencrest had offered, Illidan would no longer hesitate to protect his brother from unnecessary suffering. "I will do it, my lord. I will interrogate my brother," he agreed in a hurry.

Malfurion glanced up at Illidan, and he could see the relief in his brother's eyes as clear as the night sky. Ravencrest locked eyes with Illidan, and after a second, shook his head. "No, the Moon Guard is right; the laws will be followed."

At the commander's words, Illidan and Malfurion shared a tense look, and a wave of uncertainty and dread washed over Illidan. What if Malfurion didn't make it through the interrogation?

Looking smug, the Moon Guard sorcerer sidled up to Illidan, motioning for him to step back. With a sneer, he acquiesced and moved aside. touching his brother's shoulder briefly in an attempt to reassure him. Now, all he could do was hope that the Moon Guard wouldn't harm his brother—or worse, permanently damage his mind.

When the sorcerer pressed his fingers to Malfurion's temple, Illidan's brother cringed, bracing himself for the worst. The entire room knew the exact moment when the interrogation had begun, because Malfurion cried out, squeezing his eyes shut. Illidan clenched his hands at his sides, his jaw aching with how tightly he was gritting his teeth. Not many elves could survive such an invasive interrogation, but he could only hope that his brother was strong enough.

* * *

Over the next two hours, Illidan paced back and forth in front of Lord Ravencrest's throne, tense with concern for his brother's well-being. By now, the Moon Guard sorcerer was sweating with the effort of the interrogation. Malfurion was far beyond that, and looked ready to collapse at any moment. The only reason he remained upright were the guards standing beside him, holding him tightly in their grip.

With a harsh cluck of his tongue, Illidan about-faced and walked back in the opposite direction, his footsteps the only sound echoing throughout the main chamber. He was getting impatient and had reached the limit of his concern; two hours was far too long for anyone to be interrogated by way of mind invasion.

When he spun back around, he spotted Cytheas standing beside Lord Ravencrest. Eliana's friend had remained silent the entire time they'd been back at the Hold, and he was now watching Illidan walk back and forth across the room, his eyebrows pinched tightly together. When Cytheas tilted his head in Malfurion's direction, Illidan assumed he was asking whether Malfurion could handle any more. While the two of them didn't necessarily get along, he appreciated Cytheas' concern for his brother. Illidan shook his head imperceptibly at Cytheas, indicating that he didn't know his brother's condition, before resuming his anxious pacing.

After another few minutes, he turned with the intention of demanding that the Moon Guard cease their interrogation, when he was hit with a crippling sense of loss. It felt like the energy and strength that ran through his body had suddenly disappeared, and he was left feeling empty and weak, as though his legs no longer had the vitality to support his weight.

He clutched at his chest, and his breaths came in sharp staccato beats. Once the initial panic had subsided, he glanced at the other sorcerers; the one who was interrogating Malfurion now had his face pinched in concentration, as if the spell had become too difficult for him to handle. His companion was in much the same condition as Illidan.

A second later, the interrogater stumbled back from Malfurion, exclaiming, "That is outrageous! Surely not the queen!"

That put everyone in the room on their guard, and the other member of the Moon Guard dashed to his companion's side. They spoke in harsh whispers to each other, and when the first sorcerer tried to attempt the mind-melding spell again, it didn't work. He pressed his lips together in frustration and met his peer's eyes, narrowing his own in concern. After approval from Lord Ravencrest, the other sorcerer tried his hand at the spell as well, only for the same outcome. While they conferred possible reasons that the spell would've failed, Illidan took the opportunity to attend to his brother.

He rushed to Malfurion's side, relief flooding through him that the interrogation was over, despite the oddity that had just affected him and the other sorcerers. His brother was staring off into space, still lost in the void of his mind. Gently, Illidan touched his brother's shoulder, and Malfurion started, swiveling his head around to look at Illidan. When he didn't say anything, Illidan furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "Are you well, brother?"

The sound of Illidan's voice seemed to pull Malfurion back into reality, and he blinked a few times until his eyes focused. "I am, yes."

"It's any wonder you've still got a mind left after two  _hours_. You should've given in!"

Illidan's twin shook his head slowly, gazing off into space once more. "Two...hours?"

He hummed in agreement, before watching the other sorcerers discuss with Lord Ravencrest what they'd seen in Malfurion's mind. When Malfurion touched his arm to get his attention, Illidan turned back to his brother, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

"What happened, then? Why did they stop?" Malfurion questioned.

Illidan hesitated, unsure of how exactly to answer that; he could only assume that the other sorcerers had also been touched by the same disturbance that he'd experienced. He glanced at the Moon Guard before looking back at his brother. "You must've thought of the queen during the interrogation, because they became determined to see  _everything_ in your mind. They would've kept going, had the spell not failed. I don't think your mind would've survived any more."

"The spell failed?"

These two sorcerers from the Moon Guard were part of the highest ranks, judging by the flourishment on their robes. It was rare for such esteemed and talented sorcerers to fail in such a simple interrogation spell.

Illidan nodded in response, and in a low voice, murmured, "I think something has happened. I cannot sense the power of the Well any longer. I feel...empty, abandoned. It seemed as if the Moon Guard experienced the same sensation of...loss."

Malfurion's expression turned grim as if he'd expected to hear such dire news. "So, it's begun."

Concerned at his brother's ominous words, Illidan faced his twin sharply, his eyebrows drawn tight over his amber eyes. "What has?"

Malfurion shook his head, seemingly unsure of what to say. "I don't know exactly, but it cannot be good. Things in the capital are unstable, which I'm sure they saw, and if you  _and_  the Moon Guard have been cut off from the Well's power…" He trailed off and glanced at Illidan out of the corner of his eye.

"Then it is even worse than we thought," Illidan finished his brother's sentence.

It wasn't long before messengers began arriving at Black Rook Hold. Much to everyone's dismay, the news they all brought was not good. In fact, they coincided with Malfurion's ominous predictions a bit too much for Illidan's liking. Over the next hour or so, a messenger arrived nearly every other minute, and Lord Ravencrest stationed a few of his soldiers at the front gate just to help with the relay of information.

However, it wasn't until one specific messenger arrived—battered, bruised and injured so badly, that Illidan wondered how he'd made it to the Hold at all—that the room realized how dire things had become.

The messenger was missing armor in many places, and what little armor he still wore had seen more damage than it could handle: every inch they could see was tattered and destroyed beyond repair. No one spoke as he limped through the main hall, making his way towards them. When he was halfway across the room, he stumbled, struggling to rise to his feet again. Lord Ravencrest ordered a soldier to assist him, and with the soldier's help, he eventually approached the seat of the commander.

The messenger respectfully bowed his head, and without any further preamble, dove right into his report. "My lord, I bring news of the situation at hand."

"I thought as much," Ravencrest replied. "Where have you come from? I've been receiving reports from nearly every establishment in the immediate vicinity."

"I...I come from Zin-Azshari, my lord."

At that, everyone in the room sucked in a collective gasp. It seemed that what Malfurion had seen in Zin-Azshari, with Cenarius' help, was indeed true. The messenger's words supported Malfurion's claims, and though he was glad that his brother's word had been proven true, Illidan dreaded what that meant for their people, and the world as they knew it to be.

The taller of the two Moon Guard sorcerers, whom Illidan had learned was named Latosius, stepped forward to address the messenger. He crossed his arms and questioned, "Zin-Azshari would be a few days' ride at optimum speed. How in the world did you make it here so quickly in  _that_  condition?"

Clearly, Latosius was more concerned with the validity of the messenger's words than his health. Lord Ravencrest sent a scathing look in Latosius' direction, before demanding, "Let me the man speak!"

The messenger inclined his head again, looking grateful for Lord Ravencrest's faith in the truth of his words. He clutched at a wound on his arm that had begun to bleed once more as he explained, "A last effort was made by the Moon Guard at the capitol to send me here. With what little energy they had left, they pooled their powers together and opened a portal. I was warned that it might not work, but, considering what was happening...I didn't see that I had much choice. Unfortunately, the portal expelled me farther north, and I had to walk to the nearest outpost in order to commandeer a Nightsaber; I rode here as quickly as I could."

"For which we are grateful," Lord Ravencrest replied, and the rest of the soldiers in the room nodded their heads in agreement. "Well then, soldier. What is happening in Zin-Azshari?"

"It's...it's unlike anything I have ever seen, my lord. Things were normal, like any other day, until suddenly, these...these  _monsters_  emerged from the palace. They were horned and massive, and tore apart everything in their path, elf or building. There weren't many that survived; even the most hardened of soldiers didn't last long. The...the capitol is in ruins."

Illidan and Malfurion glanced at each other, sharing the same feeling of fear and uneasiness at the messenger's words. If the Zin-Azshari had fallen, what hope did Suramar have?

Much to Illidan's annoyance, the Moon Guard still didn't seem to believe the man. Latosius spoke to the messenger with a sneer on his face. "I don't understand. Why wouldn't the guards from the palace put a stop to this? How could these 'monsters' have possibly come  _from_ the palace?"

Latosius' companion questioned, "What did the palace guards do, soldier?"

The messenger hesitated, glancing at Lord Ravencrest before he said in a low voice, "They didn't do anything. In fact, they closed the gates behind the creatures and...simply stood there, watching the carnage. None of them helped, not even when the townsfolk screamed for their assistance."

At that, the commander's face tightened, and he pressed his lips together. "It is as we suspected, then. The Highborne is likely involved—especially if what you saw in Malfurion's mind is true, Latosius."

Illidan turned to his brother and murmured, "What  _did_  he see?"

His twin glanced at the Moon Guard before he answered, "Cenarius showed me how to be present somewhere else with naught but my conscience. I traveled to Zin-Azshari and saw...I saw Xavius directing something...unsavory at the palace. I tried to hide it from Latosius, but he pushed until he saw what I had witnessed there."

"Xavius?" Illidan echoed. "Why would the queen's closest advisor do such a thing?"

Malfurion shrugged, his eyebrows furrowed. When Illidan looked around the room, it seemed as if every soldier there shared the same expression, their commander included. Considering the consistent reports that chaos had broken out around them, Illidan assumed they would be heading for the capitol soon, to find answers of their own.

While Illidan and Malfurion had been speaking to each other, Lord Ravencrest barked orders at his soldiers, instructing them to prepare to head out. Some were directed to travel to each outpost and city along the way to the capitol, to investigate whether they needed aid, or might have additional information to the events that had occurred. Afterwards, he ordered the Moon Guard to accompany them—Latosius and his companion seemed rather irked at being commanded about, considering that the Moon Guard technically answered to the queen, and  _only_ the queen—in case of the event that their sorcery could be wielded once more.

The deafening clamor of soldiers rushing to prepare filled the room, and Illidan stepped forward, calling out, "My Lord Ravencrest! I wish to join you, as well. I still feel capable of casting some spells; perhaps I can be of use."

Lord Ravencrest nodded in agreement, turning to address the rest of his squadron until the red-headed male spoke up as well. "I believe that I may also be of use."

Ravencrest faced the stranger slowly, his eyebrow raised in doubt. When the redhead displayed his magical prowess by summoning a small blue ball of energy in his hand, the commander nodded, satisfied with the show of power. "Then you too shall come along."

From Illidan's side, Malfurion approached the commander and Lord Ravencrest sighed, facing his prisoner. "And do you also wish to offer your sorcery?"

Illidan's twin shook his head, causing his leafy-green mane to ruffle. "No, not sorcery. But the magic that my shan'do, Cenarius, has taught me."

Latosius scoffed at that. "Magic by a imaginary demigod? I can't see how that would be of any use to us."

Illidan glared at the Moon Guard sorcerer and spat, "He is not imaginary. My brother is not a liar."

Malfurion glanced at Illidan from the corner of his eye, and Illidan saw the thanks in his eyes. His brother addressed Lord Ravencrest again, and explained, "It is indeed not a lie; I have skills that may be of use that do not draw from the Well's power. In the event that our sorcerers cannot cast, it is then that I can step in."

Lord Ravencrest stared at Malfurion, presumably judging both his worth and his honesty. "Very well. If you believe that you may be able to help us, I will forget your past crimes for now. Elune knows that we need all the help we can get, and there are more important matters at hand than the question of your innocence."

"Thank you, my lord. Forgive me, but," Malfurion spoke, "I cannot help from here. I must go somewhere that is...quieter."

" _Quieter_? There are not many places within the Hold that could be described as such," Ravencrest replied.

"I must go to the Temple of Elune."

Illidan looked at his brother sharply, wondering whether he truly needed the peace and quiet that the Temple offered, or whether he was trying to use this as an opportunity to check up on Tyrande and Eliana. Either way, it was a clever tactic to get out of Ravencrest's hold.

Lord Ravencrest nodded in agreement. "Fine, go to the Temple if that is what you must do. Illidan, you will accompany your brother for now, and keep an eye on the prisoner—the red-headed sorcerer will come with me. We will meet you on the outskirts of Suramar by the end of the day. Malfurion, I can only hope that your plan can be executed by then."

"I will try my best, my lord," Malfurion replied, bowing in thanks. Illidan mirrored the gesture, and the twins, along with Broxigar, scurried out of the Hold.

Once they were outside, Illidan pulled the reins of a Nightsaber loose from the post, and turned to Malfurion to ask, "What exactly  _is_  your plan, brother?"

Gathering the reins a saber for his own use, Malfurion replied, "It might be a long shot, but I'm going to try and do what I did before, and see what's happening in Zin-Azshari right now. I might be able to stop whatever spell it is that's holding back the Well's power."

"Do you really think that to be possible?"

Malfurion shook his head, gazing out past the Hold's open gates. "I don't know for sure. But I have to at least try. In addition to that, we can check on Tyrande and Eliana. I do not know how far these creatures have gotten, but I am worried for them."

Illidan studied his brother's profile, sighing in response. It seemed as if the entire squadron was going off of hope alone, and he wasn't sure whether it was stupidity or desperation that fueled their actions. On the other hand, Malfurion was right about heading to the Temple. It had been some time since the plan to free Broxigar had been put into motion, and he too was concerned for the females' safety.

From behind them, Broxigar grunted, and Illidan realized that they'd forgotten about the prisoner. With an irritated sigh, he faced the beast and motioned to a nearby Nightsaber. "Can you ride, then?"

From atop his own Nightsaber, Malfurion reprimanded, "He is not an animal, Illidan. Broxigar is a warrior in his own right; he can manage on a Nightsaber."

Broxigar, clearly miffed at Illidan's statement, clambered atop a silver-striped Nightsaber. Once he was seated, he shifted from side to side in the saddle in an attempt to get comfortable. "I can ride, sorcerer."

Illidan scoffed in disdain, and nimbly hopped up into his mount's saddle. It was then that the doors to the Hold burst open and Cytheas raced outside, heading in their direction. Illidan let out a groan, turning his Nightsaber to face in the direction of the approaching elf. "What now?" he mumbled under his breath.

When Cytheas stood just before them, he leaned over and fought to catch his breath. After a few seconds, he straightened and looked into Illidan's eyes. "I'm coming with you."

"What for? Doesn't Ravencrest want you in his squad?" Illidan questioned as his Nightsaber shuffled impatiently under him.

" _Lord_  Ravencrest won't miss me in a sea of other soldiers. I told him I wished to return to the city, and he approved my request. So, I'm coming with you." Cytheas turned, loosening the reins of another Nightsaber for himself.

"Let me guess. You're coming with us because you wish to see how Eliana is doing?" Illidan sneered. On his other side, Malfurion tsked in disapproval—they didn't have time to argue.

Of course Cytheas wished to see how Eliana was doing. After all, they'd been friends for years, and as much as Illidan hated to admit it, Cytheas likely knew her better than he did. Cytheas had every right to be concerned for her welfare, but it made Illidan burn with unfounded anger nonetheless.  _He'd_  planned on checking up on her,  _not_ Cytheas.

The subject of Illidan's ire raised an eyebrow at him. In a sly, knowing voice, Cytheas asked, "Don't you?"

He didn't wait for a response from Illidan and raced off through the Hold's gates, kicking up a cloud of dust and dirt in his haste. Illidan let out an irritated huff, and spurred his Nightsaber forward with a squeeze of his thighs. With Malfurion and Broxigar right behind him, he flew through the iron gates, and they headed into the thick of the forest.

Once they caught up to Cytheas, the four of them made haste back to Suramar. Though he wasn't overly religious, Illidan desperately prayed to Elune that both Tyrande and Eliana were still safe, and that the city was untouched by the imminent chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Arenoptara for beta-reading :)
> 
> & to anyone still reading this story, I'm so sorry for how long it's taken me to update. I've recently finished one of my ongoing WIPs, so I'm hoping to get updates out a bit faster. Thanks for sticking with me!


	11. Chapter 11

Ever since the rumors of the massacre at Zin-Azshari spread, Suramar had been overwhelmed by activity. Its citizens scurried about, trying to pack up their belongings and settle affairs in case they had to flee. No official reports had reached the city yet, but the Sisters of Elune had felt the severance of the Well's power. They had no need to wait for confirmation; they knew that the power of the Well was gone. Though they didn't draw from the arcane source directly, their race was undoubtedly tied to its energy. It was impossible  _not_  to notice the change. Many of the citizens of Suramar had sought reassurance from the Temple, and the Sisters of Elune opened their doors to any and all who needed a safe place to pray to their Goddess.

The most frightening part of it all was when they felt their sisters in Zin-Azshari perish. Terror, confusion, and desperation had rippled through their ranks, and many of them turned to their Mother Moon for comfort, with prayers that their sisters passed as peacefully as possible. None of them needed an official report to confirm what they knew, and felt, to be true. That alone was enough to convince Eliana that perhaps it  _was_  a good idea to leave. She could simply run home, pack her things, and she and her father could run to safety.

But where would she go? The other Night Elven settlements were far smaller, and in her heart, she felt that her place was here at the Temple. If she ran, there was always the chance that she'd run into a settlement that  _wasn't_  Elven, and that was an outcome she most definitely did not want.

A woman and her child rushed past, and Eliana jumped back from the path, narrowly avoiding being plowed over. From the top of the Temple stairs, Tyrande called out to her, "Eliana, what are you doing down there?"

With a sigh, Eliana gathered her skirts and trekked back up the steps. She sidled up to Tyrande, who was standing just before the edge of the veranda, gazing down at the square below. Her friend looked at her admonishingly, and Eliana let out a huff. "I just thought that perhaps we could see better from the plaza whether they'd come back sooner."

"I find that the view across the square is slightly better from up here. There are too many people milling about to have a clear view of the entrance."

Eliana's gaze returned to the archway on the far end of the square. "I suppose you're right." A few seconds passed before she mumbled, "Don't you think it's been far too long since they left the city?"

"It has only been two days, Eliana."

"But with what has happened at the capital…We still do not know where Malfurion and Broxigar are, and Illidan left with Lord Ravencrest. Wouldn't Lord Ravencrest's troops be the first ones to respond to the situation at the palace?"

Tyrande's slender eyebrows cinched together. "Yes, I would imagine so." A beat passed before her friend added, "Eliana, Illidan will be fine. He is a capable warrior."

Choosing to ignore Tyrande's mention of Illidan—even though her friend had correctly guessed the subject of her worry—she instead asked, "How are you  _not_ worried?"

"I never said that I wasn't worried. I've simply been trying to keep my mind otherwise occupied."

Eliana hummed, though it was more as an afterthought than true agreement. Her friend was right in saying that two days wasn't very long, but the events at Zin-Azshari had been weighing on her mind since the first rumors had reached them. Though she had faith in Illidan's abilities—despite the fact that she'd only seen him use them the one time—it didn't stop her from worrying.

He wasn't the only one on her mind. Cytheas was one of Lord Ravencrest's soldiers, and even though they weren't speaking at the moment, she still cared about him. She could only hope that he hadn't been at the capital.

She'd started to head inside when a commotion from the square caught her attention. A surge of hope coursed through her, and she hurried back over to Tyrande.

When Malfurion's vibrant green mane came into view, they both breathed a sigh of relief. To Eliana's surprise, Illidan was right beside his brother with Broxigar in tow. She was even more shocked to see that Cytheas rode with them. The four of them veered right and headed straight for the Temple, and Eliana and Tyrande scrambled down the steps to meet them.

"Malfurion! Illidan! You're both all right!" Tyrande exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace Malfurion as soon as he and Illidan had dismounted.

Cytheas followed suit and walked around the twins, beelining for Eliana. Without a word of greeting, he enveloped her in a tight embrace. All of her prior anger towards him dissipated, only to be replaced with relief that he was alive and well. He caressed her hair, and whispered in her ear, "Eli, I am so happy to see you."

"I am happy to see you as well, Cytheas," she murmured, gently touching his upper arm before leaning back a bit. He acquiesced to her silent request and released her, though he then grasped her hand tightly in his own.

Over his shoulder, she saw Tyrande briefly embrace Illidan. When she stepped away, Illidan glanced over at Eliana, his eyebrows furrowed. His amber eyes bore into her own, and all at once, it seemed like the bustle from the square quieted to a soft hum in the background. Everything and everyone faded away, and the only thing that she could focus on was Illidan as he stood in front of her. By Elune's good grace, he appeared to be exactly as she remembered him: healthy, and virile. So many emotions rose up within her, and a wave of warmth flooded her chest. She took a step towards him, feeling the irresistible need to touch him, to make sure that he was really there, and indeed all right.

When she took another step forward, something held her back, and she realized that Cytheas was still holding on to her hand. Illidan walked towards her, and she glanced back at Cytheas, imploring him with her eyes to release her.

His jaw was clenched so tightly that she could see the muscle in his cheek twitching. Gently, he ran his thumb along the side of her hand, and his callouses scratched against her skin. It was as if he were asking her to choose him over Illidan. The memory of what had happened at the Festival of the Moon flashed through her mind. Though she knew it would hurt him, and likely would sever their relationship permanently, they needed to talk about what had transpired between them. By this point, she knew that in the end, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she would always care for Illidan in a way that she never could towards her oldest friend.

Softly, she pleaded, "Cytheas…"

Briefly, his gaze flickered past her. The heavy weight of Illidan's hand settled on her shoulder, and his rough baritone swept over her. "Eliana."

After Illidan spoke, Cytheas' eyes met hers once more, and she could practically feel the anguish emanating from him. Again, she pulled her hand back. His face contorted briefly, tainted with hurt, before he schooled it into a more neutral expression. He relaxed his grip and her fingers slipped out of his. Listlessly, his hand dropped to his side. Eliana's heart constricted at the sight of her friend looking so dejected. Her concern for Cytheas was quickly forgotten, however, when she remembered who was behind her.

Illidan brought his hand down to her upper arm and gently turned her around, pulling her into his arms without hesitation. She folded into his embrace as if she'd always belonged there, and wrapped her arms around his torso before laying her cheek on his chest. She inhaled deeply, and his scent filled her senses. It was a mixture of the sharp tang of metal—which was the trademark scent of magic—and the potent smell of pine trees, with just a hint of spice. It was undeniably masculine, dangerous and exotic, and completely  _Illidan_.

Despite how hard she tried, she couldn't stop her voice from wavering. Even though it was slightly muffled because she spoke into his shirt, her relief at seeing him again was obvious. "I'm so glad that you are all right, Illidan."

"I hurried back to the city as fast as I could. I needed to know that you were safe," he murmured, resting his cheek against her hair.

Surprised at that, she pulled away from him to look up into his eyes. "You were concerned for me?"

He cupped her jaw in his hand, an unreadable expression on his face. "Of course I was. I'm glad to see that both you and Tyrande are untouched by the chaos outside the city walls."

At the mention of the other priestess, the hope that Eliana had felt puttered out, and she took a step back, away from Illidan. "I suppose you would be."

Illidan furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly confused at her reaction. He reached out to her again, but she pointedly avoided his touch and looked over at Tyrande and Malfurion. In an attempt to mask the ache in her heart, she asked, "Mal, why are you and Broxigar here? Is it safe for you to return to the city?"

Malfurion nodded, and pointed at the Temple. "It is a long story, but Lord Ravencrest knows that we are here. I need to use the Chamber of the Moon."

"The Chamber of the Moon? Whatever for?" Tyrande questioned.

"I'll explain as we're walking. We must hurry, we don't have much time!" Malfurion exclaimed, leading the way up the steps. The rest of the group followed after him, and they hurried through the Temple to the centermost room.

Malfurion and Tyrande led the way, and Illidan, Cytheas, and Eliana formed the rear, blocking Broxigar in between them. Though they tried to hide his appearance, it simply wasn't possible. A few of the priestesses cried out when they saw him, and it took Tyrande and Eliana's whispered reassurances to send them on their way. Finally, when they reached the Chamber, a sentinel caught up to them and pulled Tyrande aside.

"Sister, I realize that it is customary for the Temple to allow any and all through its doors, but that creature—"

Incensed, Tyrande pulled out of the sentinel's grasp. "Elune says that all of her children are welcome, does she not?"

The guard looked thoroughly chagrined, though she continued to attempt to reason with Tyrande. "Well, yes, the teachings don't specify anything about other races, but—"

When Eliana saw the look on Tyrande's face, she stepped forward and offered, "He is in our care, sister. As Tyrande has said, he has just as much right to be here as we do. You have our word that he will not cause any harm."

A sigh left the sentinel, and finally, she stepped back. "Very well. But try to keep him out of sight as much as possible. There is far too much panic as it is."

Eliana nodded, and Tyrande moved around the group to push open the massive doors that marked the entrance to the Chamber of the Moon. After clearing the room of its inhabitants—which were only two fellow sisters, who with one glance at Broxigar were more than happy to leave—the group headed inside. Cytheas shut the door behind them, and Malfurion and Tyrande made their way to the center of the room.

Malfurion glanced up at the sky through the round opening in the ceiling. He stood there for a few seconds, deep in thought, and sounding rather impatient, Tyrande asked, "Mal, what's going on?"

Without looking at her, he said, "I intend to walk the Emerald Dream again."

 _The Emerald Dream?_  Confused, Eliana turned to Illidan, who was watching his brother with a tense expression. "Illidan, what is that?"

"Something my brother learned from Cenarius, I assume." His words were clipped and short, and she cringed at the harshness in his tone. Considering he was still staring at Malfurion and Tyrande, she imagined they were the cause of his irritation, and tried not to take offense.

Malfurion and Tyrande continued to speak to each other in low, hushed tones, and even from a few steps back, Eliana couldn't hear the rest of their conversation. After a couple of minutes, Malfurion sank to the floor, crossing his legs beneath him. The opening in the ceiling offered a single, waxen ray of moonlight, and because of where he sat, he was completely enveloped in the silvery glow. Tyrande and Broxigar joined him, and when Tyrande reached out to take Malfurion's hand, Illidan let out a grunt and faced the other direction. Eliana glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, empathizing with him. She knew exactly what he was going through; she experienced the same emotions every time she saw him and Tyrande together.

Sensing that Malfurion likely needed peace and quiet, and no interruptions, Eliana walked to the outer edge of the room and sat down on a stone bench. Illidan remained standing, though his arms were now crossed and he was glaring at the wall. Her gaze flitted past him to Cytheas, who was watching her with a blank expression on his face. Their eyes met, and he slowly made his way over to her.

When he stood just in front of her, he seemed unsure of how to act. Taking the initiative, she patted the other half of the bench, inviting him to sit down next to her. His shoulders sagged in relief and he did just that, though when their thighs brushed, she surreptitiously scooted over to give them a bit more room.

He didn't say anything once he was seated, and they watched Tyrande and Malfurion in silence. Illidan started pacing along the perimeter, and without realizing that she was doing it, her eyes followed him around the room. Cytheas must've noticed, because when Illidan was on the opposite end of the room, he spoke.

"You love him, don't you?"

Startled out of her reverie, Eliana faced Cytheas, feeling her cheeks flush. "I—Love is a strong word. To be honest, I hardly know him. I don't think I could say that I  _love_  him..."

When he met her gaze, his eyes were shuttered. "And yet, how could it be anything else? I was a fool to think I could change your heart."

Though she knew this talk needed to happen, and that it had been a long time coming, it didn't make it any easier. "You've never been a fool, Cytheas. If you are one, then so am I," she murmured with a hesitant, albeit sad smile.

His gaze briefly focused on Tyrande, before returning to hers. He offered a brief smile in response, and quipped, "Fools in love then, are we?"

She recognized his olive branch for what it was, and her smile widened. "I suppose we are."

He held out his hand for hers, and without hesitation, she took it. Softly, he traced patterns into her skin. "You know, I realized it a few years ago, the way I felt about you."

"Years?"

"Yes. It was shortly after your coming of age party."

Eliana looked down at their joined hands. It felt nice—warm, comforting. But it didn't make her feel the same way that Illidan's touch did; her veins didn't feel like they were set alight with desire. She'd feared as much when Cytheas first admitted his feelings to her. But now she had proof, and it was difficult to swallow. Now that he knew for certain how she felt about Illidan, and that she couldn't return his feelings, she knew that their relationship would never be the same from here on out. They would remain friends, that was what his olive branch had been, but it was inevitable that their dynamic would change. She mourned the loss of what they had been before.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she whispered.

A brief, dry chuckle left him. "I think I knew even then that I had no chance." His fingers stopped moving, and he looked up at her. "Can you honestly say that if I  _had_  said something, that anything would've been different?"

Eliana held Cytheas' gaze for a few seconds, then took in all of his features: the straight edge of his nose, his high, prominent brow bone, the deep, navy shade of his hair. He was handsome, he always had been. But she could never see him as more than a brother. She tightened her grip on his hand and mumbled, "No."

He dropped his gaze, and mumbled, "I thought as much."

"I'm so sorry, Cytheas." A wave of sadness swept through her, and she moved to reach out to him.

At that, he held up his other hand, and she dropped her arm. "No, I don't wish for you to apologize. I know quite well that you cannot help where your heart lies. Even though I royally screwed things up, I'm grateful that you even gave me a chance."

She nodded, not knowing what else to say. He might be grateful that she gave him a chance, but she felt like she'd strung him along, toyed with his emotions. The very minute he'd admitted his desire to court her, she'd thought of Illidan. She'd known from the start where her affections lay, and yet, she'd accepted Cytheas' suit. What did that say about her? Disappointed in herself, she pressed her lips together.

Cytheas tapped her chin, and she glanced up at him. When he saw the look on her face, he shook his head reprovingly and said, "If I know you at all, I know you're blaming yourself right now—don't. I pushed to court you, and you said yes because that is who you are. You didn't wish to hurt me. Not then, and not now. To be honest, though it may not be you want to hear...it makes me love you more. You are kind-hearted, you always have been, and it would've hurt me more if you'd simply said no back then. At least this way, I know I gave it my best shot."

This was the first time he'd admitted his feelings aloud, and again, she didn't know what to say. It wasn't as if she could reciprocate, and there was nothing she could offer that would make him feel any better. Her eyes dropped to her lap again, and he placed his other hand over hers.

"Eliana," he prompted, and she looked back up at him. He hesitated for a second, before he said, "I'm sorry for what I did that day. I had no right, and I know it's no excuse, but I was desperate."

Without hesitation, she replied, "I forgive you, Cytheas."

He smiled, though it wasn't entirely out of happiness. "You forgive too easily, Eli. But I—I am glad to hear that. It's a relief, to be sure."

"I know this may not be the smartest thing to ask, but why are you being so kind  _now_?" She realized how bad that sounded and backtracked, hurriedly adding, "Not that you weren't always kind to me, but I mean, I cannot return your feelings. I would've thought you'd be more...upset."

He broke eye contact and his gaze shifted to just past her ear. Silently, he stared at the wall, his mind clearly elsewhere. When he spoke again, his voice was hollow, and it frightened her a bit. "I  _was_  upset. But the things I've seen in the past two days alone...When I returned to the Hold and saw Illidan, I...it made me think of that day again. I realized how much I had erred, and how much I needed to speak with you, to tell you that I was sorry. I couldn't—I couldn't go into battle to die knowing that we had never set things right."

" _Die_? But you weren't injured, were you?"

"No, I wasn't. But I easily could have been. I was supposed to be there at Zin-Azshari, Eliana. Somehow, fate intervened and I remained at the Hold."

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. He tightened his grip on hers, before continuing. "When I found out that Illidan and Malfurion were returning to the city, I rushed here with them, hoping and praying to Elune that you would be safe, untouched by the demons. The relief that I felt when I saw you standing there was...Somehow my feelings are so much more insignificant now. So long as you are alive and well, then that is all that matters."

"Oh, Cytheas. You could have…" She trailed off, tears welling in her eyes. He was right. Seeing each other safe and sound was so much more important than their misunderstanding. Knowing that there was nothing else they could say, he squeezed her hand again.

By then, Illidan approached them, having nearly completed one revolution around the room. When he saw them together—holding hands, and seated only inches apart—his already terse expression morphed into something much darker. Cytheas quickly let go of her hand and rose to his feet. "I'm going to go and speak to the garrison. Perhaps Jarrod will have some information."

"Will you check on my father as well? I'm so worried about him, but I haven't been able to leave the city. Not with how many people have been coming to the Temple."

"Of course, Eliana. I'll be back soon," Cytheas promised, before leaving the room.

Not long after the door had shut, Illidan collapsed onto the bench where Cytheas had been sitting with a sigh. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, massaging his temple. "I take it you two have solved your problems?" he asked in a rough voice.

"Yes, we have."

His eyes shot open, and after he looked over at her, he deadpanned, "I'm happy for you."

A wry smile lifted the corner of her lips. "You don't sound like it…"

Another sigh left him and he straightened. "I'm sorry. This whole thing has me on edge."

"The situation in Zin-Azshari, you mean?"

"That, them, you; everything."

"Me? Whatever have I done?" Eliana asked, confused.

Illidan faced her, and held her gaze for far longer than he ever had before. "You are an enigma. I can't seem to pin you down."

"I'm hardly an enigma...Illidan, you're not making much sense. Are you feeling ill?" she asked, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead.

"I'm making perfect sense. You're simply not listening," he chided, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. Somehow, his touch felt more intimate than their embrace earlier, and her entire body flushed with warmth.

"I don't understand," she mumbled.

"One second, you're telling me that you don't know if you and Cytheas could ever be friends again. Yet here you are, having made up with no problem. You encourage me and tell me that you are happy I've found my calling, and then you turn around and sit in dark corners with  _him_ , holding hands. What am I supposed to believe, Eliana?"

She was equal parts embarrassed that he'd seemed to notice her attentions towards him, and miffed that he was acting so...rude. "Of course I encouraged you, Illidan. I understand how difficult it can be to follow the path that was truly meant for you, especially when others in your life may wish otherwise. When you told Tyrande and I of your success under Lord Ravencrest's watch, I was happy for you. And as for Cytheas, if you must know, we were discussing his courtship of me."

"And?" he demanded, sounding impatient.

She tilted her head to the side, and asked, "Why do you wish to know?"

"Eliana, indulge me for now."

It was hard for her to form coherent thoughts, what with her wrist still encircled in Illidan's grasp. The warmth from his fingers was radiating up through her arm, and she was feeling flustered at his...interrogation. "I—He...I told him that I could never feel that way towards him. Not when—" She broke off, realizing that she'd been about to admit that she had feelings for someone else—the very male sitting across from her now. Switching routes, she finished, "He understood and apologized for what he'd done the day of the festival. That's all."

"And that required you to hold hands? That's a rather intimate act for such a letdown." He let go of her wrist and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

Despite his sudden, abrasive attitude, a small inkling of hope flared in her chest. "Are you...are you jealous, Illidan?"

"Of  _course_ not, I—" He ran a hand down his face before jumping to his feet. Anxiously, he paced back and forth in front of the bench. Eliana watched him, feeling even more bewildered at his behavior. Finally, he halted his movements and stared down at her, his eyes intense. "What were you going to say?"

It was increasingly difficult to keep up with his rapid change of topic. Confused, she lowered her eyebrows. "When?"

"Earlier. You said that you told Cytheas that you could not reciprocate his feelings. Not when...what?"

Eliana closed her eyes with a resigned sigh, lamenting the fact that he'd caught on to that. Of course he had. Illidan was sharp, more intelligent than most. He had a perceptive mind, and keen senses. There was no way he hadn't heard her say that, even though she'd tried her hardest to move past her little slip-up. Was this the moment when she'd admit her feelings to him? Was this even the right time, or place?

Deciding that she couldn't prolong the inevitable any longer, she whispered, "Not when I have feelings for someone else."

Slowly, he sat back down on the bench. In a surprisingly gentle motion, he grasped her hands in his own and locked eyes with her. "Who do you have feelings for, Eliana?" he asked in a low voice.

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out, and she closed it again with a snap. Now that the moment was staring her in the face, she couldn't bring herself to do it. With Cytheas, she'd been lucky that he was willing to let things lie in the past and continue being nothing more than friends. What if Illidan didn't return her feelings—scratch that, she knew he didn't, considering the way he still looked at Tyrande—and her admittance ruined everything between them? If he could never love her, at least they could remain friends. Her eyes slid shut, and she hoped that Illidan would just drop the subject and let things be.

The feel of his fingers tracing along her jaw surprised her, and her eyes shot open. His face was now mere inches from hers and she reeled back slightly, shocked at his close proximity. He cupped the back of her head with his other hand, not allowing her to move away any farther. He slid closer to her on the bench, and his knee pressed against the side of her thigh, causing her to suck in a breath. Softly, he asked, "Tell me who, Eliana."

Unable to resist the pull of his beautiful, golden eyes, she spoke, even though she was terrified that she'd come to regret it. "You," she whispered, so softly that it was any wonder he actually heard her.

Before she could process what had happened, his lips were pressed against hers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Illiana development (thanks Terikel for the pairing name, hahah)! I'm sure many of you have noticed that the story is kind of a blend of canon and the new route I'm taking. In the novel, Illidan and Rhonin are off with Lord Ravencrest at the front lines. I decided to keep him with the group, and eventually, they'll join up with the battle.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who still reads this! & to arenoptara for beta-reading. See you guys next time!


	12. Chapter 12

Eliana froze, her mind unable to process the fact that it was Illidan— _Illidan_ —whose lips were on hers. A few seconds later when she still hadn't responded, Illidan pulled back and gazed down at her with his alluring eyes—though at the moment, they were filled with what might be displeasure.

"For someone who claims to have feelings for me, I'd have imagined that you'd react a bit differently," he stated.

A blush spread out across Eliana's cheeks and she murmured, "I'm sorry. I have to admit that I wasn't expecting that."

"A fair point," he noted with a low chuckle. "If I do it again, will you reciprocate this time?"

All she could manage was a nod. Apparently, it was enough for Illidan because he once again cradled her cheek and leaned in, giving her a chance to anticipate what was about to happen this time around. She closed her eyes and when she felt his warm, slightly chapped lips press against hers, a jolt of euphoria shot through her, warming her straight down to her toes. The kiss remained rather chaste for a few seconds until Illidan gently ran his tongue along the seam of her lips. That single, intimate sensation caused the simmering heat within Eliana to ignite into an uncontrollable flame.

She wound her arms around his neck and opened her mouth for him, acquiescing to his silent request. He slid his tongue into her mouth as he pulled her closer on the bench, and their surroundings faded into the background; she was completely enveloped in Illidan's essence, his _passion_ , and it far exceeded any expectation she'd had of how this might feel. By this point, she was nearly straddling him. If she hadn't been so swept up by the moment, she might've acknowledged the fact that it was an uncharacteristically bold move on her part.

With every stroke of his tongue, the muscles in her lower abdomen clenched in the most torturous, yet delightful way. She appreciated the fact that he didn't seem to mind her ineptitude—the way he took swift control of the situation clearly indicated that.

When she pulled back and tentatively nibbled on his lower lip, he let out a groan that both took her by surprise and excited her further. He was normally so quiet and reserved; his verbal reaction had been the last thing she'd expected. In response, he captured her lips again, but this time his hands traveled up and into her hair. His fingers tightened in the soft strands—almost painfully so—but here in this moment, Eliana found that the sharp tug only served to elicit more pleasure. For what had started as a subdued kiss, a testing of the waters, it now threatened to spiral dangerously out of control. Neither one of them had anticipated _this_.

They were both so oblivious to their surroundings that they didn't notice Cytheas walk back into the room. It wasn't until the door closed with an echoing thud that they broke apart, and when Eliana glanced over Illidan's shoulder, she saw Cytheas watching them with a grim expression that was tainted with hurt. She winced at the sight before lowering her gaze, unable to stop the brief flash of guilt that rushed through her.

They'd talked about what had happened between them, and he'd made it very clear that he still, and likely always would, care about her. Despite the way they'd handled the situation that had caused them to drift apart, she stillcared about him—though as a friend—and it was natural that she'd feel guilty for hurting his feelings now, even if she knew that she had every right to chase after her own happiness. After all, she'd done her part and made it known that she would never reciprocate his feelings, and he finally seemed to understand that.

Her friend's tight expression dissolved into one more blank and unreadable, and he slowly walked in their direction. Figuring she should put some space between her and Illidan before Cytheas reached them, she glanced up at Illidan and noticed that he too was looking past her shoulder. Gently, she placed her hand on his upper arm to get his attention. When he looked back at her, she offered a hesitant, albeit flustered smile. Much to her dismay and surprise, his reciprocation was rather stiff. Before she could question the reason why, he slid off of the bench and rose to his feet, offering his hand to her for help. She took it, but noticed how he wasn't entirely willing to look her in the eye. This was neithr the time nor the place to ask him about that, and she figured they'd have a chance to discuss what exactly had just happened between them at a later time.

By then, Cytheas had reached them and Illidan offered a curt nod in his direction. For a moment, Eliana worried that the tension between them would return, but Cytheas simply mirrored the gesture with that blank expression still on his face.

Holding Illidan's gaze, Cytheas explained, "According to Jarod, his scouts have spotted Lord Ravencrest and a small group of soldiers approaching the city. We should probably head out to meet them now."

Illidan's eyebrows furrowed, implying that he didn't quite like the news that Cytheas had delivered. "I will inform Tyrande. Wait here," he replied gruffly, before turning and stalking towards the center of the room.

A beat passed before Cytheas muttered, "He seems rather upset, considering what just happened between you two."

From the flat tone of his voice, it was likely that he'd been trying to sound nonchalant, but it ended up coming across as a bit petulant instead. Slightly irritated, Eliana let out a short sigh and shook her head. "Cytheas...please don't. I swear to you that we weren't—I wasn't planning on—"

Cytheas held up his hand, indicating that she didn't have to finish that train of thought. "It's not any of my business, Eli. After all, we just discussed that we both have to move past what happened between _us_. You're allowed to kiss whomever you wish and you are not obligated to explain anything to me."

"I may not be _obligated_ , no, but I am _willing_ to explain—if you want an explanation, that is."

"I do not need one. Do whatever you wish to do, Eliana." He crossed his arms and watched Illidan converse with Tyrande across the room.

Another sigh escaped her lips. Did he have to act so jealous all the time? The second that thought crossed her mind, she chastised herself. He had every right to act the way he was. However, it didn't mean she had to apologize for her own actions, because she'd done nothing wrong. That left the two of them at a rather awkward stalemate, and silence fell between them. Cytheas continued to stare in the direction of the other half of their group, and Eliana pulled her hair to the side so that she could absentmindedly weave the thick white strands into a tight braid.

After a few minutes, when Eliana felt like she could no longer handle the tense silence, Illidan returned to their side. "Tyrande says that Malfurion is still deep within the Emerald Dream. Apparently, it isn't safe to move him while he's in such a state. She and Broxigar plan to stay here at the Temple until he awakens." Illidan gestured to Cytheas and finished, "It will likely be just the two of us heading out to meet them from the sound of things."

A surge of irritation swept through Eliana. It was just like the last time they'd all tried to form a plan, and attempted to leave her out of things. The situation was significantly more dire now, and there was no way she was going to let them push her aside again. She wasn't the sort of female to simply wait at home, safe from the dangers of the world, worrying for those she loved who were on the front lines. No, she would be right there beside them.

She stepped forward, and both Cytheas and Illidan faced her. "I'm coming with you," she stated in a firm voice.

As she'd predicted, her announcement didn't have the most positive reaction. Cytheas shook his head fervently and Illidan looked positively aghast.

"Eli, are you _insane_?"

"Absolutely _not_ , Eliana."

She crossed her arms over her chest and with a frown, said, "Cytheas, you know _very_ well that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself on the battlefield. I may not have as much experience as you do, but I am far from helpless." After facing Illidan, she added, "I have every right to be out there, fighting to protect our people and our home. You've no right to stop me, Illidan."

Both males opened their mouths to rebut, but were interrupted by the sound of Tyrande's soft footsteps. "She is right. Neither of you have any reason or right to prevent her from joining you. If she wishes to fight, then I do not see why she cannot."

Illidan sighed, glaring at Tyrande out of the corner of his eye. "It's dangerous out there, Eliana. I know you wish to help, but if you've never been in the throes of battle before, you could get yourself killed—quickly."

"I know that it isn't a game; I am not a child. But whether I join you now or wait for the demons to reach the city, what does it matter? I refuse to simply stand back and watch the people I love fight my battles for me. Not when I know that I can help. I'm coming with you," Eliana insisted.

No one spoke after her statement, and Cytheas watched her with knowing eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he mumbled, "All right."

Both Illidan and Eliana looked at him sharply—Illidan with disbelief, and Eliana with surprise. When Cytheas saw the look on Illidan's face, he rolled his eyes and explained, "You don't know her like I do just yet. When she makes that face, she will not take no for an answer. If we try to leave her behind, she'll simply follow after us. We might as well agree now so that we can try to keep an eye on her."

The warm sense of gratitude in her chest faded and was quickly replaced with vexation. "I don't need either of you to babysit me," she piped up indignantly.

Visibly frustrated, Illidan ran his hand down his face and sighed, long and deep. " _Fine_. Get ready to leave. We'll meet at the base of the temple steps in five minutes."

With that, he stalked out of the room and the door shut behind him with a heavy thud. The three of them cringed, and Cytheas muttered, "Bit of a temper, hm?"

Tyrande shook her head and with cinched brows, replied, "He tends to get angry when things don't go the way he wants them to. He'll get over it. Eliana, before you go, may I speak with you?"

Eliana nodded in Tyrande's direction before touching Cytheas on the shoulder to get his attention. "Will you go to my room and grab the pack I left by the door? I put everything together this morning, just in case."

"I'm _sure_ it was 'just in case'," Cytheas said, rolling his eyes. "I'll meet you outside then."

Again, she nodded in confirmation, and Cytheas left the room. Once they were alone, Eliana faced Tyrande and questioned, "What did you need to speak to me about?"

"As I'm sure Illidan told you, I'm going to stay here with Malfurion until he wakes. Broxigar is also staying, but as soon as we are able, we'll meet up with you."

"All right…" Eliana trailed off, sensing that her friend hadn't yet said everything she needed to.

After a moment of hesitation, Tyrande continued. "I saw you...you and Illidan."

Immediately, Eliana dropped her eyes to the floor before meeting her friend's gaze once more. It was difficult to tell what Tyrande was getting at. Was she angry? Did she disapprove? Why else would she bring it up?

In a flat voice, Eliana replied, "I am sure that you did. It would be hard to miss, what with you being only a few feet away."

"You are mistaken, Eliana. I am not upset. I simply wanted to...warn you."

" _Warn_ me? Whatever for?"

"Illidan is—" Tyrande broke off with a heavy sigh. "He means well, he always does. But there are times when he acts without thinking things through. It's never long before the ramifications of his actions catch up to him, and he's left fighting with himself on whether it was the right thing to do. He is driven by his emotions and his determination, and often times, he can be overwhelming to be around because of that."

Eliana slowly shook her head, confused as to what Tyrande was trying to tell her. A couple of tense seconds passed with Tyrande holding her gaze, and her friend finished with, "I just want you to be careful. I know how you feel about him, even if you've never come out and actually said it, and considering everything that is happening around us...I do not want any distractions to put your life at risk."

Incensed, Eliana gestured towards Malfurion's still frame across the room. "Is Malfurion not a distraction for _you_?"

Appearing to be thoroughly chagrined, Tyrande glanced over her shoulder at the male in question before facing Eliana again. "I will be honest with you and admit that, yes, sorting through my own emotions has been at the forefront of my mind. But I am not joining you on the front lines, Eliana. You and Illidan both will be there, _together_ , and from what I saw occur between you two earlier… Just promise me that you will try to remain focused? Please?"

"This is not coming from a place of jealousy, is it?" Eliana murmured. "Not that I would be angry if it were, because I know exactly how that feels, but—"

Tyrande raised her hand and interrupted Eliana in mid-sentence. "No, it isn't. I am saying it because I _know_ Illidan, and I like to think that I know _you_. I just want to make sure that I will find you alive and _well_ when we join up with you later."

Eliana nodded, almost imperceptibly, before grasping Tyrande's hand and squeezing a bit. "I promise, so long as you promise the same."

A smile teased at the other priestess' lips. "I promise."

The two embraced briefly before Eliana backpedaled towards the door. "Elune-adore, sister," she whispered.

The last thing she saw before the door shut behind her was Tyrande standing in the center of the Chamber of the Moon, one hand over her heart, and the other raised in farewell.

* * *

When Eliana emerged from the Temple, she saw Illidan and Cytheas standing beside the mount post at the base of the steps. Her own Nightsaber stood at attention beside Il'hadras and Illidan's borrowed mount, rocking back and forth on its four paws, seemingly anxious to get going. She hurried down the staircase and once she stood beside them, Cytheas questioned, "What did Tyrande want?"

"She just told me to be careful," she replied as she affectionately patted Il'hadras' snout. Her own saber snorted in jealousy, and she shook her head in amusement before moving to its side. "Did you have a chance to go and check on my father?"

He shook his head. "I stopped by the garrison first. When Jarod told me about Lord Ravencrest, I hurried back to the Temple. If we leave now, we can stop by on our way out."

On cue, Illidan swung himself up and into his mount's saddle before looking down at them expectantly. She and Cytheas followed suit and without further preamble, the trio left the square and raced through the outer perimeter of the city. With every step that carried them nearer to her home, a deep sense of foreboding grew exponentially and settled in her lower abdomen. Try as she might, she couldn't dispel the sensation, and she prayed to Elune that she was simply suffering from paranoia fueled by fear.

The second they rounded the curve in the path and her once majestic home came into view, she realized that her premonition was all too true. Her home stood before her, charred, broken, and nearly unrecognizable. The front door hung from its hinges, the wide boards broken and snapped in half. Many of the planks that made up the arched walkway that led to the door were missing, and tears sprang into Eliana's eyes at the sight of her home in ruins. It was any wonder that the colossal tree was still standing, it was so badly damaged.

Before the three of them had even reached the tree, Eliana slid from her mount's saddle and rushed towards the front door, desperately hoping that her father hadn't been home when the attack had come. Suddenly, her previous worries about discussing things with Illidan, and patching up her relationship with Cytheas, seemed so trivial. From behind her, she could hear Cytheas yelling for her to wait, but the sound was muffled as if she were hearing him from underwater. Once she stood at the base of the stairs, she paused, bracing herself on the unstable railing.

"Father? Father!" she cried out, listening for any sounds: her father's voice, a creaking floorboard, _anything_ to indicate that there was life within the burned walls.

When her only response was silence, the fear within her multiplied, threatening to overtake her entirely. She tried to climb the splintered wooden steps, but stumbled in her haste and panic. Strong, warm arms encircled her, and placed her back down on solid ground.

Illidan's deep timbre filled her senses, and she felt his breath ghost against the tip of her ear. "Be careful, Eliana. Cytheas and I will go first so we can make sure the structure is sound. If your father is inside, we _will_ find him."

Desperate and overcome with anxiety, she clung to the front of his shirt and took a couple of deep breaths before she nodded. He returned the gesture and cupped her cheek for a brief second before stepping past her, nimbly making his way to the top of the broken steps.

Almost immediately after he disappeared into the house, Cytheas sidled up to Eliana and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I will come back out for you as soon as we know it is safe."

She looked up and held his gaze, nodding once more when she finally felt like her brief panic attack had subsided. His hand drifted down her arm, and he squeezed her hand in reassurance before following Illidan into her house.

Now that she was alone, the silence of the forest seemed to multiply, suffocating her with its oppressive and ominous air. She, along with every other Night Elf, knew that the forest was never truly silent. The sounds of their fellow inhabitants usually permeated the space: the chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves as the wind blew through the branches. This unfamiliar, unnatural quiet was how she knew things were worse than she'd initially thought. True silence filled the meadow; not a single melodic trill could be heard, nor could she feel the aura of any of the forest's usual occupants. Whatever had come through here and destroyed her home clearly had no qualms about razing the forest to the ground. She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't frightened.

Seeking reassurance, she ambled over to her Nightsaber and slid her fingers through its coarse mane. It swiveled its head around to look back at her, and let out a heavy snort through its nose. Despite the ominous tension in the air, a slight chuckle escaped her lips and she absentmindedly stroked her mount's neck underneath the thick layer of hair.

"I suppose thinking up a name for you would be a good activity to get my mind off of things, wouldn't it?" Eliana whispered.

Her only response was the Nightsaber shaking its mane in an attempt to smooth out its now ruffled hair. She switched from threading her fingers through the coarse strands to actually combing them in an attempt to help. A quick peek to the underside of her mount affirmed her initial thought that it was a female, and she tapped her forefinger to her lips in deep thought.

"Your fur is rather dark...perhaps something to do with the night? Shadows? Stars? Do any of those sound good to you?" she asked the sabercat.

It stared back at her with its shrewd eyes once more, and she listed off random words again, waiting to see if any of them elicited a response. "Night?"

No reaction.

"Stars?" A subtle shake of the mane. "Shadow?" Her tail flicked to the side.

"Shadow of the stars?" Eliana whispered, the corner of her lips curling upwards in an affectionate smile. When the Nightsaber looked back over her shoulder at Eliana again, and let out another puff of air, Eliana laughed.

"Shadow of the stars it is, then. From today forth, you will be known as Kal'shalla," she announced, and the sabercat let out a low purr.

The creak of a floorboard echoed throughout the clearing and Eliana whirled around, her hand immediately jumping to her pack where her daggers were. When she saw that Cytheas had come back out onto the front porch, she relaxed and headed for the stairs to meet him.

"Did you find anything?" she anxiously questioned.

He shook his head, and she sighed in disappointment and worry. With cinched brows, she asked him, "If he isn't here now, then where could he be?"

"I do not know, but I hope that it is wherever these _demons_ are not. If you still want to come inside, Eli, I'm warning you that...they left little untouched."

A shaky breath left her before she replied, "I have to see it for myself."

His only response was a slight nod, and he held out his hand for her. She grabbed it, and he proceeded to help guide her up the unstable remnants of the stairs. When they reached the porch, Illidan glided out of the house and met them in the doorway. Their eyes met, and his frown deepened as he laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Eliana. There isn't much to salvage," he murmured.

Tears pooled in her eyes again and she offered a thankful smile, however brief and unconvincing it might have been. Illidan moved to the side so that he no longer blocked the entranceway, and as she and Cytheas walked into the house, he said, "I will wait for you both out here."

The sound of Illidan's voice, which was normally such a comfort to her, faded into the background as she saw the true extent of the damage. Her eyes flitted around the room in abject horror, and her heart stuttered in her chest like it was going to give out. The wooden dining table that her father had built with his own hands had been broken into two pieces and tossed across the room like it had weighed nothing. Splintered shards of the once beautiful pine lay scattered across the floor, and hers and her father's belongings were thrown about chaotically with no method to the madness. There was so much debris in the room that the kitchen was no longer accessible, and she shuddered as she thought about the condition of the window that used to be there—the one that had allowed her to admire the forest beyond their home.

Cytheas gently placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her to the staircase. When she saw the state of the banister, she let out a choked sob. It had been obliterated. Only two or three of the balustrades that her father had carved to resemble the tall, ever-reaching pines of the treeline remained. The actual handrail was broken and had fallen to the floor below.

"Be careful where you step, Eli. Much of the staircase is no longer stable," Cytheas murmured.

She felt herself nod, but it was as if she were an outsider looking in. She felt hollow and lost, unable to comprehend the extent of the damage that had ravaged the place she'd called home only weeks before. With Cytheas' guidance, they reached the second floor, and he slowly pushed open the rounded door that led to her old room.

All that remained of her previous sanctuary was the expansive window she'd loved so much. The rest of the room was blackened and charred beyond recognition, and she realized that whatever blaze the demons had set had started from the top. There was no hope of salvaging anything, as Illidan had said. None of her belongings remained, and now the only material objects she had to her name were in the pack that was tied to Kal'shalla's saddle.

Numb, she pulled her hand out of Cytheas' grip and wandered farther into the room, trailing her fingertips along the ashen remains of her life. In a voice so quiet that it was any wonder Cytheas heard her, she asked, "What of my father's room?"

He shuffled in place behind her, and the sound prompted her to face him. "It...not much of it remains, and what little is there is difficult to access. We did find something but...I'm not sure that you wish to see it."

"If it's a clue to my father's disappearance, then I wish to see it, Cytheas."

His eyes lifted from the floor to meet hers, and with a grim expression, he nodded. Without another word, he left her room and disappeared down the hall. After one last glance at the remains of her room, she followed after him. About halfway around the tree, he'd stopped in front of a fallen beam, seemingly waiting for her to catch up.

When she stood beside him, he pointed to the small opening underneath the beam. "You'll have to crawl through there. When Illidan and I were heading back down, the beam fell and I can't fit through anymore."

"Is it safe?" Eliana questioned.

"It should be, but I can't guarantee anything. Just don't take too long. I'll wait here in case anything does happen."

She nodded and got down on her hands and knees to crawl underneath the beam. Once she was past it, she rose to her feet and brushed the dirt and soot from her legs. Before her, the door to her father's bedroom had been knocked off its hinges and it laid on the ground, as equally scorched as the rest of the upstairs. With a glance in its direction, she rounded the corner into her father's bedroom—or at least, what remained of it.

It was in even worse shape than her own, and she could only take perhaps four steps into the room before the floor fell away. The entire wall that had separated his room from the exterior was now gone, and the burned branches of the tree that made up their home stared back at her.

The sight of what had previously been such a place of comfort for her, now destroyed beyond repair, left her devastated, but she fought to see past her own sadness to find what Cytheas had been talking about. She glanced around the room in confusion, unable to see anything that was extraordinarily out of place. She opened her mouth to call out to him, but the soot she breathed in caused a coughing fit. Once she recovered, she yelled, "Cytheas?"

His answer was immediate. "Yes?"

"What am I looking for?"

A second or two passed before he replied, sounding distressed. "Look down. We already brushed some of the residue aside. You should be able to see it."

At first when she followed his instruction, she didn't see anything. From under the toe of her boot, she spotted a circular stain in the floorboard, but her shoe was blocking most of whatever it was. When she shifted backwards and moved her foot aside, she realized that the stain streaked along the ground, traveling towards the door. Unable to discern what exactly it was, she crouched down and brushed aside more of the dirt that she'd likely stirred up in her wake.

Once the floor was clear of grime, it only took her a second to realize what she was looking at. The dark shade of the dried blood had thrown her off; she'd been expecting something brighter, more noticeable. This stain was nearly the color of the midnight sky, only significantly more sinister and foreboding. There was only the slightest hint of red to the shade; the flames must've darkened the stain. When her mind made the connection that was likely her _father's_ blood, she reeled backwards, stumbling to her feet.

"Cytheas, what—" she gasped, catching herself on a piece of broken furniture. Her breathing quickened, and simultaneously, it felt like the room was shrinking around her and as if the floor was falling away. She slid down the length of whatever she'd bumped into, and before she hit the ground, the edges of her vision began to fade. Images of her father, injured, broken, and bleeding out, invaded her mind. Overwhelmed by the possibilities of what might've happened, she gasped for air, realizing a second too late that her panic attack from earlier was returning in full force.

As the world turned black, the last thing she remembered hearing was Cytheas shouting her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to Arenoptara for beta-reading. I apologize for this being a bit of a filler chapter, but it was needed to smoothly transition into the next arc of the story, in which things become a bit...bloodier.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	13. Chapter 13

The entire world felt like it was swaying back and forth, the motion akin to a ship that was unable to endure the high tide of the ocean on a rough, stormy night. When Eliana's eyes fluttered open, she realized that she hadn't been imagining things—the world was indeed moving from side to side. To be more accurate,  _she_  was the one who was moving. Her head felt heavier than her neck could support, and it lolled to the side, making her vertigo significantly worse.

A warm hand pressed gently against her forehead, causing her head to fall back onto someone's shoulder. The comforting scent of pines, tinged with the slight sting of metal, told her that it was Illidan who sat behind her. As her vision gradually cleared and the midnight sky above them greeted her, the memory of what remained of her childhood home returned. She let out a shaky breath as tears pooled in her eyes, and Illidan's profile drifted into view.

"You're awake," he murmured.

She rolled her head slightly to the right, and met his glowing amber eyes. "How long was I unconscious for?"

"A couple of hours. When Cytheas and I failed to wake you, we decided to continue on towards the camp with the hope that we could make you more comfortable there." He looked straight ahead again, hesitating for a brief second before he added, "I was worried you wouldn't wake up until we arrived."

She sat up and realized they were riding on Kal'shalla, not Illidan's borrowed saber. After a cursory glance at their surroundings, she didn't see Cytheas anywhere. They were surrounded by nothing else but the ever-expansive forest. Even now, after everything that had happened, the sight still brought her peace. However, the unnatural absence of the sounds of nature extended to their location, and Eliana's concern for their situation grew; what could be so abominable and destructive that it could reach this far, in such a short amount of time?

Confused, she asked, "Where  _is_  Cytheas?"

"He rode ahead to meet with Ravencrest, and to prepare a place for you at the encampment. It's been quite some time since he left, and I imagine they're probably there already."

She didn't know what to say in response, and lowered her head as she fanned her fingers out, spreading them through the coarse strands of Kal'shalla's fur. Depression wasn't something she was prone to, but after everything that had happened, she felt more disheartened than she usually did. It was difficult to find the positives in her situation.

Her mount's reins were held tightly in Illidan's hands, and she just now noticed that his immense arms were wrapped around her, keeping her upright. Twisting around, she looked up at him and questioned, "Have you been holding onto me the entire time?"

"Well, it was either that or let you fall off," he chuckled. "Is that what you would have preferred?"

"No, I—" She faced forward again. "I was just surprised, that's all."

He hummed in response and they continued onward; the only sound that permeated the silence was the scuffing of Kal'shalla's paws against the dirt. A few minutes later, Eliana piped up and offered, "We can stop, if you'd like to trade places. You must be stiff from riding in the same position all this time, and I'm all right now."

She heard the leather of his jerkin creak ever-so-slightly as he leaned forward. His rich, potent scent filled her senses again, and she felt his lips brush against the length of her ear, eliciting a shiver from her at the unexpected contact.

"I'm fine, Eliana, but thank you," he whispered. After straightening, he finished with, "Besides, we're almost there. Do you see the slight glow coming from just through those trees?"

She followed the direction of his finger and stared up ahead, starting in surprise when she spotted the faint illumination he'd spoken of. When she nodded, he explained, "That should be the camp, according to Cytheas' directions. We were going to spend the day there if you hadn't woken, but now the plan might be changing. Will you be all right if we pick up the pace?"

Again, she nodded, and he shifted in the saddle so that his arms were tighter around her waist. With a quick flick of his wrists, they were speeding through the woods towards the light. As they neared, the faint sounds of soldiers milling about could be heard—the clanking of their armor, of raucous conversations—and she straightened in anticipation. Though she was no soldier, she didn't wish to enter their camp looking like a damsel in distress, like she was depending on Illidan's presence to stand on her own two feet.

Priestess of Elune she may be, but she was no damsel.

The second they flew out of the treeline and into the clearing, the bustle ceased, and multiple pairs of luminescent eyes landed on them. Instead of waiting for Illidan to dismount and help her out of the saddle, Eliana swung her leg over and slid to the ground, grasping the pommel of Kal'shalla's saddle for support when she swayed ever so slightly.

Hastily, Illidan leapt off of the saddle and stood beside her, placing his hand over hers. "Don't rush yourself, Eliana. You've barely recovered, and I would've helped you had you waited but a second."

"I know. I just..." She trailed off and looked up at him, imploring him to let her do this on her own with nothing more than her eyes. They didn't know each other well enough for her to know with certainty that he'd understand, but she knew he was perceptive enough to at least catch the gist of what she was asking.

After holding her gaze for a moment, much to her relief, he nodded imperceptibly before letting go of her hand. As he busied himself untying their packs from the saddle, she took a few deep breaths before straightening and turning around.

By this point, the majority of the soldiers had returned to whatever they'd been doing when the two of them had arrived. The encampment was ill-lit; there were only a few lanterns posted in the dirt, scattered throughout the entire clearing. It explained the dim glow they'd seen farther back on the path. She scanned the camp, looking for Cytheas, but when she didn't see him anywhere, she sucked in a concerned breath.

With their bags slung over his shoulders, Illidan sidled up to her. Her face must've been easily read, because one glance in her direction had him saying, "He's here, Eliana. Probably in Ravencrest's tent, if I had to wager a guess. Come on."

She followed him down the main path of the encampment with her head held high and arms swinging confidently at her side. Eventually, curiosity got the best of her, and she watched the soldiers at their work, polishing their sets of armor and various weapons. This was a side of war that she'd never seen before: the bleak preparations, the pall in the air, the  _reality_ of it; the dark expressions on each elf's face—dread,  _fear_.

Elune required her priestesses to be well-versed in the art of war, but not in the mindset of it. They knew how to dance with their blades or their bows, how to strike in the most lethal positions in the most graceful of ways. What they didn't know was how to hate the enemy with undying passion, or the absolute fear that crippled these soldiers. They'd seen things she had never even thought of in her worst nightmares.

She'd never wanted to know how that felt, and yet, here they were, in an encampment on the brink of a war that had snuck up on them.

How had it come to this?

Up ahead, an elaborately decorated, deep plum, velvet tent stood before them. It was easy to surmise that that was Lord Ravencrest's tent, and her previous confusion at how Illidan had known where to go when he hadn't yet been here dissipated. Anyone with eyes could have found their destination.

They came to a stop in front of the tent, and in low tones, Illidan spoke to one of the sentries posted outside. The soldier promptly disappeared into the tent. A few seconds later, he popped his head back out and beckoned to Illidan, who grasped Eliana's hand and gently pulled her forward, holding up the tent flap for her as she passed under.

Her footsteps were muffled by the opulent rug that rested over the ground, and once she was all the way inside, she straightened, clutching the folds of her thin skirt. The interior of the tent was brighter than the rest of the camp due to the blazing flames of multiple candles that were strewn about the space. The warm light from the candles gave the tent a cozy feeling—so cozy, she had to remind herself that it was a  _commander's_ tent, even though it looked more like a noble's living space. It wasn't exactly the type of environment one  _should_ associate with coziness, or a true sense of welcoming. It was a place of strategy, of  _war_.

Behind the massive table in front of her stood the commander himself in all of his glory. He was just as ornately dressed as the last time she'd seen him, and she found herself wondering whether he truly lived up to his reputation. When he spotted Illidan, he nodded in greeting and Illidan respectfully inclined his head.

Cytheas was standing to the side of the commander, his gaze focused on the map that was spread out across the table. The soldier who had announced their arrival left the tent, and when Eliana's gaze followed him out, she saw another male standing off to the far end of the tent. At first, she pegged him for one of their own, but the brightness of his hair prompted her to look again, and she realized that he wasn't entirely all that similar.

His features were softer, though he was nearly as tall as Cytheas and Illidan. Unlike their own pointed, elongated ears, his were rounded at the top. The features of his face were similarly shaped—softer, less harsh than the features of a Night Elf. His stature was also wider, almost stocky in comparison to the lean strength of an Elf.

What made him stand apart from the others in the room was the color of his skin and his hair. Most Night Elves' skin tones varied in shades of purple, though paler shades of blue and pink weren't uncommon. Hair could be anywhere in the spectrum from a deep violet, to the rich navy of Tyrande and Cytheas, to the snowy white of her own strands. Yet this stranger had an almost peach-colored tone to his skin, with fiery, blazing red hair.

It was extremely peculiar, to say the least.

When their eyes met, he answered her questioning gaze with a wry smile. After a slight bow, he stated, "A pleasure, Priestess. My name is Rhonin."

Unsure of what protocol this situation called for, Eliana hesitantly offered a return curtsy. "The pleasure is mine, Sir Rhonin. I am Eliana."

He let out a nervous-sounding chuckle and waved his hands in the air in dismissal. "I'm no sir. Just Rhonin is fine."

The sound of their conversation prompted Cytheas to look up, and when he saw Eliana standing beside Illidan, he came out from behind the table. "Eliana! You look better."

"I  _am_ better," she reassured him. "I was just—with everything going on, I was a bit overwhelmed. I'm fine now."

Cytheas moved to the other side of her, opposite from Illidan, and gently placed his hand under her elbow. "I thought you'd still be unconscious, so I requested a private tent from Lord Ravencrest. Do you want to lay down for a bit?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but Lord Ravencrest interrupted her. "We will stay camped here until sundown tomorrow, so I suggest that you take this opportunity to rest, young priestess."

There was something in his tone that sounded the slightest bit condescending, and she tilted her chin up defiantly as she replied in an acerbic tone, "I feel perfectly fine, Lord Ravencrest, but I thank you for your hospitality."

As if he was surprised by her gall, Ravencrest shifted in place and peered down his nose at her. Before either of them could say anything else, Cytheas grasped her upper arm and pushed her lightly towards the exit. "I'll show you where your tent is, just in case you wish to take Lord Ravencrest's advice at a later time, hm?"

Under her breath, she indignantly muttered, "I am not tired."

"Eliana, it does not matter whether you are or aren't," he replied, equally as quiet. "You can't speak back to my superior officer that way. Not after I've asked him for a personal favor in order to let you stay here at the encampment."

They were just pushing through the tent flap when Lord Ravencrest called out to them. "Illidan, I wish to speak with you for a moment. Do you mind staying behind?"

The three of them paused in the opening, and Illidan met Eliana's gaze briefly before turning around and nodding to the commander. "Of course not, my lord." He faced her again and softly said, "I'll come find you once I'm done."

She nodded in response, and Cytheas led her out of the tent. Once they were outside, she pulled her arm from his grip. "I can walk just fine, Cyth."

"I'm sorry, I know you can. It's all about appearances here." He hung a left and walked away from Lord Ravencrest's massive, opulent tent, and led her past a few smaller, less ostentatious ones.

"It's about appearances for me too, you know. I'm not someone who needs to be coddled, and I don't want to seem like I am," she replied defensively.

"Why does it matter? You'll likely never see any of these soldiers again," he said over his shoulder.

"Because if I'm to fight with you and your peers, I need them to believe in my abilities—that I don't need to be watched every second of the fight."

He whirled around, his eyes stern. "Do you honestly plan on fighting with us, Eli?"

Surprised, she stared at him in silence. A few seconds passed before she stated, "Of course I do. That's why I came with you."

"Yes, I know that's what you said at the Temple, but this is  _war_ , Eliana. This is serious. It isn't like when we spar, or even like when you were training. Elves  _will die_ , and many of the ones you see here will never see their families again."

Anger welled up in her at his tone of voice. He was speaking to her like a child, and doing exactly what she hadn't wanted the other soldiers to do. The difference in situation was that this was  _Cytheas_ , her oldest and dearest friend. He was supposed to believe in her, believe that she could do whatever she put her mind to, and yet he was speaking down to her as if she didn't understand the concept of war. She may have never experienced it firsthand, but she knew what it meant. She knew that it meant death and destruction, and horrific things she'd yet to see.

She was  _not_  a child.

"I would like to go to my tent now," she muttered, lowering her gaze to the floor.

"Are you feeling unwell again?" He stepped forward and touched her forehead with the back of his hand.

Though his concern for her was touching, she was still far too irritated with him to appreciate the gesture. "I'm simply tired. I'd like to lay down," she lied, pretending that she felt the way everyone assumed she should feel.

"I thought as much. Follow me," he instructed, before grasping her hand in his and leading her down the path again.

Apparently, they'd been close to their destination when their conversation veered off, and it was only a few steps later that Cytheas came to a stop in front of a rather small tent. It rested slightly farther away from the rest of the encampment, and Eliana was surprised at how close the treeline was.

"For privacy," Cytheas explained, when he noticed her staring at their surroundings.

She offered nothing more than a nod to his explanation. It made sense, considering she was likely the only female in the entire camp. If Cytheas was worried about privacy, it made her question whether he had legitimate reason to. Mildly concerned, she looked at him and asked, "Should I be worried?"

"About the other soldiers bothering you? No. I've already arranged to have someone posted outside your tent all night. If it isn't me, it'll likely be Jarod."

"Oh, Jarod is here?" Even though she knew he wasn't going to pop out of the forest on cue, she still glanced over Cytheas' shoulder, looking for a familiar face.

"Yes, but he's over on the other side of the camp, with the rest of the troops. We're sharing tents, otherwise I would've moved mine closer," he said with a slight smile.

Her previous ire had lessened somewhat, so she returned his smile with a tiny one of her own. "Thank you, Cyth, for setting this all up for me. I—though I feel fine, it would be nice to have some private time to just...process what has happened."

"That's what I was thinking you would want to do, though I was relieved to see you up and about, walking on your own."

"I fainted, I didn't break an ankle," she replied.

He rolled his eyes in response. "I know, but you were unconscious for quite awhile." A few shouts came from the camp behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder for a second before facing her again. "I have to go check in with the rest of them. Will you be all right for a few hours on your own?"

"Yes, I think so."

"I'll make sure to tell Jarod to head over here as soon as he can. I should be back around sunrise."

"I'll be  _fine_ , Cytheas. If you can't return, I can handle myself."

Briefly, he cradled her cheek. "I know you can. Don't do anything stupid until I get back, hm?"

She waved her hand at him before crossing her arms. "I won't. Now go!"

He backpedaled, keeping his eyes on her until he reached the bend in the path. Once he'd turned around and disappeared behind the multitude of tents, she lifted the flap of her own tent and headed inside.

It was sparsely decorated, though someone had clearly taken the time to hunt down finer quality furnishings than she imagined the rest of the soldiers received. A thin, woven rug lined the floor of the tent, and instead of a standard cot, a few crates had been put together to make the base for a bed. A mattress big enough for one elf to lay down comfortably rested atop the crates, and a pelt that looked surprisingly soft had been lain over it. One fluffy pillow lay semi-hidden underneath the coverlet, and she meandered over to the bed to poke it, surprised to find how plush it really was.

Beside the bed stood another crate with nothing more than a lit candle resting on top of it. On the other end of the tent, next to the entrance, was a pedestal. Someone had placed a pitcher of water and an empty bowl on it, and she walked back across the space, thinking that washing her face sounded heavenly right about now.

One glance around the tent reminded her that Illidan had taken their packs from Kal'shalla, and she hadn't grabbed hers when she and Cytheas had left Lord Ravencrest's tent. Her change of clothes and toiletries were in the pack, and she groaned at the realization that freshening up would have to wait.

With a sigh, she returned to the bed and sank down onto it. She'd only been sitting there for a minute or two before she felt her eyelids droop, and the brief thought that laying down for but a moment wouldn't hurt flitted across her mind.

Before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

* * *

The gradual lightening of the sky woke Eliana, hours later, and she blinked at the uncomfortable brightness that was seeping into her tent. She'd assumed that the fabric had been thick enough to block out the light, but apparently, that wasn't the case. With a groan, she sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes before planting her feet on the ground.

After slipping her feet into her sandals, she headed outside. The camp was eerily quiet, what with all of the soldiers fast asleep for the day. It was a stark contrast to how it had been when they'd arrived earlier, and she crossed her arms over her chest, feeling oddly vulnerable without auditory reassurance that she wasn't alone.

Neither Jarod nor Cytheas were anywhere to be found outside of her tent. Feeling a slight sense of panic, Eliana paced back and forth for a bit before shaking her head at her own ridiculousness. If they weren't here, she'd simply have to go and find them. After all, she was the one who kept insisting that she wasn't useless, right?

_Perhaps they stepped into the forest for a break_ — _to relieve themselves, or something. Males do that, don't they?_

Determined, she stalked past her tent and into the trees, telling herself she wouldn't go far if she didn't spot them. As she walked, she kept her gaze on the path ahead, but let her thoughts wander. She was still a bit drowsy from waking up, and the warm sunlight didn't help things, either. Her thoughts drifted from her father, to Tyrande and Malfurion back in Suramar. Finally, they settled on Illidan and the kiss they'd shared at the Temple.

Absentmindedly, she lifted her fingers to her lips and touched them, marveling at the fact that it had actually happened. Never would she have thought that her greatest dreams would come true, and yet, they had. She was a Priestess of Elune, like her mother before her, and she and Illidan had shared a kiss. It sounded juvenile to be happy about such things, but she couldn't deny the elation she felt.

However, it was mitigated by the knowledge that her people were going to war with a force that was equal parts dangerous and horrific. She'd yet to see these demonic creatures, but both Cytheas and Illidan seemed to be convinced of their existence. If it hadn't been for the utter terror and immense pain that she had felt coming from her fellow sisters at the capital when they'd perished, she'd have been inclined to doubt them.

Minutes later, and more than a few feet into the forest, she came to a halt on the path. If she hadn't seen either Cytheas or Jarod by now, it was likelier that they were back in the camp rather than all the way out here. She turned around to head back when she collided into a hard chest and stumbled backwards.

Since her thoughts had recently been on more morbid topics, she felt a surge of panic overtake her. She whirled around, intending on running away from what she thought was a demon. It grabbed her arms, and she flailed in its grasp, gasping for air in her panic.

"Eliana! Eliana, it's me!"

She paused and glanced back over her shoulder at the supposed demon, jumping in surprise when she realized it was actually Illidan.

"Illidan? What are you doing out here?"

Finally, he released her arms and stepped back. "I saw you heading into the forest and followed you. I called out to you a few times, but you didn't appear to hear me. I was...worried about you being out here by yourself."

"Why is everyone so worried about me being alone?" she asked, crossing her arms as she let out an exasperated sigh.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, for one, we are in a camp filled with soldiers that I'm sure would appreciate a Priestess of Elune's presence in more ways than one. Two, we are at war and only a few miles from Zin-Azshari. The forest could be filled with creatures that we've yet to find. It isn't the smartest idea, heading out here alone." A beat passed before he added, "Oh, and third, you've just found out your father is missing. I can't imagine you're in the best mindset right now."

"I'm not overcome with grief, if that's what you're saying. I'm not some feeble female who is crippled by her emotions, and therefore, cannot function."

Seemingly confused by her heated response, he furrowed his eyebrows. "I never said that you were. Anyone would be affected by such a discovery, Eliana, female or otherwise."

Feeling suddenly drained, she let out a long sigh before replying, "I'm sorry. I don't know why I keep snapping at everyone. Cytheas tried to ask me if I was all right earlier, and I practically bit his head off."

"Much has happened in the past two days. You just need time for everything to settle," he said with a shrug.

"Perhaps that's true. He did suggest I take some time alone to relax, to think, but it's difficult. It's...too quiet out here."

"It is, isn't it?" he murmured, glancing upwards at the trees.

She followed his gaze, squinting at the sunlight that filtered down through the canopy of leaves above them. After staring upwards for a few seconds, her eyes met his once more. "What  _are_  you doing out here in the middle of the day?"

"I was on watch. I left to grab your pack, and when I came back, I saw you disappearing into the trees."

"On watch...for  _me_? Did Cytheas ask you to?"

Illidan nodded, before reaching his hand out to her. "How about we finish this conversation back at your tent? I feel a bit unsettled standing out here in the open."

A flash of nerves ran through her at his offer, but she still slid her hand into his. He interlaced their fingers before leading her back the way they'd come. She rested her other hand on his forearm as they walked, reveling in the warmth of his touch. Underneath her palm, his muscles were taut with caution, and the realization that he was prepared to protect her from the enemy—who could appear at any moment—hit her. She'd been truly foolish to venture into the woods without any real protection; she had no weapons on her, and was wearing nothing but her thin initiate dress and flimsy sandals.

Her gratitude humbled her, and she tightened her fingers around his. He glanced down at her, a silent question in his eyes, but she shook her head in response. A few minutes passed in silence, and it wasn't until they could see her tent through the treeline that she piped up. "Illidan...may I ask you a question?"

"You mean besides the one you've just asked?"

She rolled her eyes at his quip, and replied, "Yes, besides that one."

By then, they were standing just outside her tent, and he reached out to lift the flap for her to enter. She smiled at the fact that it was the second time he'd done so, and ducked under his arm. Once he was also inside, he let the flap drop. It was still incredibly bright inside, and since the sun was at its apex, it was also rather humid.

Luckily, her dress was thin, so it didn't bother her too much. Illidan, however, was still wearing his leather jerkin and pants, and had to be uncomfortable in the heat. She gestured to him with a grimace, and asked, "Isn't there a change of clothing for you somewhere in the camp?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" he asked, looking down at himself.

"Nothing. It just seems like you'd be rather warm in it."

He waved his hand dismissively, before crossing his arms. "I assume that isn't what you wanted to ask me."

She chuckled nervously before shaking her head. After sitting down on the bed, she gazed up at him, inspecting his features as she tried to find the nerve to ask him  _why_  he'd kissed her. Was it merely because he'd been swept up in the moment? Or was it something deeper, something more along the lines of how she felt?

He matched the intensity of her stare, and somewhere in the few seconds that they gazed into each other's eyes, the atmosphere in the tent shifted towards something more intimate. It felt like the air between them was charged with unseen energy—the same chemistry that had surrounded them when they'd kissed at the Temple. Eliana shifted on the bed, breaking eye contact to stare down at her fingers, though it didn't lessen the tension in the air one bit.

"Why did you kiss me?" she blurted out before she could change her mind, still staring at her hands.

Too afraid to look back up at him, she continued studying the lines in her fingers. His initial response was a long, drawn-out sigh, and she cringed ever-so-slightly at his apparent exasperation. He probably thought she was a child who knew nothing about the world and how it worked.

She did, though, and that was partially the reason she had to know why he'd done it. She had to know whether she had reason to let her heart hope that perhaps, just maybe, he cared about her, too.

When a few more seconds passed and he still hadn't spoken, she finally looked up at him. He still had his arms crossed over his wide chest, and was staring down his nose at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Biding time, she followed the lines of his face, of his straight, prominent nose, the strong angle of his jawline.

Finally, after what felt like eons, he replied, "I don't know."

Eliana's heart sank and her gaze fell, focusing on a nondescript spot on his jerkin instead of his face. "I see."

Another sigh left him, though this one was short and sounded more frustrated. "You misunderstand me. I do not  _regret_ kissing you. I simply...at the time, I wasn't thinking about what it meant, or what would follow. I did it because it is what  _I_  wanted to do—and what I sensed you wanted—in that moment. I know that may not be what you want to hear—"

She held up her hand, interrupting him. In an stiff voice, she said, "You answered my question. Thank you for that."

He crossed the room swiftly, coming to a halt just in front of her. She leaned back, craning her neck to peer up at him. After studying her intently for a second, he kneeled in front of her, putting him at eye-level. "You're not hearing what I'm saying. I did it because I  _wanted_ to, Eliana."

That previously tiny spark of hope in her heart flared, and she blinked at him in slight confusion. "What are you...you're right. I don't quite follow."

In a motion so slow, she'd almost guess that he was feeling hesitant, he reached up and cradled her cheek with his hand. "I care about you. It's taken me some time to see that clearly, but I  _do_."

Briefly, she allowed herself to revel in the moment and nuzzled his hand. Then, she pulled away, and he let his hand fall. "But you love Tyrande. You've never hidden that fact from me, or anyone else."

"I do love her, and I have for quite some time. I...think that I always will. But I care about you as well, Eliana. I know that isn't the perfect answer, nor is it likely the one you wanted to hear, but I won't lie to you."

"I suppose I should be happy about that," she whispered.

Again, he cradled her cheek, this time running his thumb along the high ridge of her cheekbone. The same heated tension from earlier returned, and she sucked in a shaky breath as she tried to calm her nerves. Despite the fact that he'd said little, Illidan always had a way of changing in the energy in the room with one touch, or one look. As he gazed into her eyes and absentmindedly traced the line of her jaw, her lips parted in eager anticipation.

His eyes flickered down to her mouth, and he swept his thumb up from her chin before dragging it across her lower lip. Nervous, she moved to lick her lips, not even thinking about the fact that his finger was right there. As a result, her tongue grazed the tip of his thumb, and his eyes darkened with lust.

Before her mind could catch up with her actions, his lips were pressed against hers. His arms wound around her waist and he leaned her back on the bed, deepening the kiss as they moved. When his tongue slid along the length of hers, the muscles in her lower abdomen tightened and she let out a breathy moan that was quickly devoured by him.

Sometime in the space of the few minutes they'd been lost in each other, he'd ended up bracing himself above her, his arms now on either side of her head. They broke apart for air, and he gazed down at her with far more intensity in his eyes than the first time they'd kissed. Lost in the moment, she reached up and placed her hand against his cheek, basking in his presence, in his touch.

"I cannot deny that I care about you," he murmured.

"Just as I cannot deny the way I feel for you, even if you do love someone else." Her eyes darted away before returning to his once more, and he pressed a finger to her lips.

"Let's not talk about that right now. Not when it's just you and I."

Overcome with a sense of bravery she knew she didn't truly have, she snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. This one was much shorter than the one before, and she could sense he was holding back. After pulling away, she stared up at him in confusion.

He placed a chaste kiss to her lips before explaining, "It's nearly sundown. You should try to get some more rest before we continue on to Zin-Azshari."

She let out a conceding sigh; he was still so close to her that her breath ruffled an errant lock of hair that had fallen out of his ponytail. "I cannot fall back asleep when it is so bright outside."

"Luckily for you, I can help with that." He slid off of her and back to the ground, before rising to his feet. He curled his hand into a tight fist, and after a pale silver aura surrounded it, he waved his hand. The tent fell dark, illuminated once again by only the sole candle on the crate beside the bed.

"What…" Eliana trailed off, sitting up on the bed in awe.

"Magic is useful in more situations than just battle," Illidan offered with a shrug.

"Where were you when I was trying to fall asleep earlier," she jested, smiling at his clear talent for the arcane arts.

He mirrored her expression before offhandedly gesturing to the exit. "I'll keep watch outside and let you know once we're preparing to leave."

She crossed her legs and remained on the bed. "Thank you, Illidan."

After a parting nod, he lifted the flap and left the tent. She could hear the grass rustling as he sat down, presumably right beside the opening. Now that the tent wasn't humid and blindingly bright, she laid down to try and get some real rest before they needed to head out. Illidan was right: if they were going into a potential battlezone, she needed to be as alert and prepared as possible.

With the tent now a comfortable sleeping environment, Eliana let her eyes drift shut. Not long after, she was fast asleep, with the knowledge that Illidan was right outside, protecting her in her vulnerability at the forefront of her dreams.

* * *

Once the moon rose, the camp burst to life. The voices of the soldiers permeated the forest, and when it reached Eliana's tent, she opened her eyes with a start. She'd barely sat up in bed when Illidan popped his head into the tent.

"Oh, you're already awake," he noted.

"Barely. I take it everyone's getting ready to leave?" she asked in a hoarse voice as she rubbed her eyes.

He slid into the tent with her pack in his hand. After depositing it on the ground, he nodded and crossed his arms. "Yes. Once you've finished getting ready, I need to start taking down your tent."

"I will hurry. I'll come out and help you once I'm finished."

He nodded and walked back outside. Once the flap had fallen shut, she slid off of the bed and rummaged through her pack, pulling out her leather leggings and her own jerkin. Most of the priestesses wore elaborate armor sets that left their abdomen and legs bare, but Eliana preferred more coverage. Since she used a set of daggers and not a bow, she was often slinking through the underbrush, and it didn't make sense to expose herself to more elements than necessary.

Quickly, she dressed and pulled on her boots before heading to the water basin to wash her face. It took her a few seconds to re-braid her hair, and she tossed it over her shoulder once she was finished securing the ends. After clipping her weapons belt around her hips, she sheathed the daggers she'd brought from the Temple. They'd been a gift from Cytheas when they'd first started sparring together, and despite the fact that they were smaller than she'd usually prefer, they allowed for quicker movements. That, and she sharpened them on a nightly basis. They were more ready for the frontlines of a battlefield than  _she_ was.

She slung her pack over her shoulder and stepped outside, nearly colliding with Illidan who'd been pacing back and forth impatiently. He mumbled an apology before heading back inside and dragging out the furniture. Once everything was out of the tent, he pulled out the first of the stakes that secured the tent in place. She watched him for a few seconds before bending down to help him.

Before long, they had a pile of stakes and a neatly folded canvas tent. They piled the sparse furnishings beside the tent, and it was then that Cytheas came stomping down the path. When he spotted the two of them standing side by side, admiring their quick handiwork, he froze in place.

"Illidan? What are you doing out here?" he questioned as he sidled up to them.

"Helping Eliana, obviously," Illidan sniped.

Appearing to be confused, Cytheas watched Illidan gather the tent in his arms with cinched eyebrows. "Where is Jarod?"

With a noncommittal shrug, Illidan disappeared down the path and back into the main camp. Cytheas scoffed at the other male's attitude before facing Eliana.

"Did Jarod not keep watch last night?" he asked again.

She mirrored his expression and drew her eyebrows together, equally as confused. "Jarod? No, Illidan said that you'd asked  _him_  to."

Cytheas rolled his eyes before angrily shaking his head. "Of  _course_. I am sure he did  _just_  that." After grabbing one of the crates from the pile, he stalked down the path, muttering under his breath.

_What in the world is wrong with the two of them?_

With a frustrated grunt, she too lifted a crate and followed after him. Everyone was piling bits and pieces of furniture by a large wagon, so she and Cytheas deposited their crates there. They turned around and he gestured to the herd of sabercats beyond the slowly depleting line of tents.

"If you want to saddle up, I'll meet you over there in a few minutes. Illidan and I are riding at the front with Lord Ravencrest, so I need to show you where you'll be in the lineup."

"I won't be with  _you_?" Eliana asked before pressing her mouth into a thin line. Even though she knew what was going to come out of his mouth the second she asked, she still wanted to hear him verbally confirm it.

"No, you won't," he said as he shook his head fervently. "You'll be riding in the middle of the unit, where it's safest."

She opened her mouth to argue when Illidan and Lord Ravencrest appeared from around the bend. Illidan shook his head imperceptibly at her, warning her not to argue with Cytheas, and after sharing a heated look with him, she closed her mouth with a snap. Fed up with being treated like a fragile female, she whirled around and headed for the sabers.

"Males," she muttered under her breath.

With jerky movements, she secured her pack to Kal'shalla's saddle. After letting out a huff, she pulled herself up and situated herself behind the pommel. Once she was settled, she led them to the middle of the herd, nodding a silent greeting to the soldiers who were to flank her. They respectfully touched their hearts in acknowledgement of her status, before tightening their ranks and scooting their mounts closer.

It seemed like ages before the entire camp was packed up, and the many soldiers were all mounted and ready to leave. Eliana stewed the entire time, and her anger didn't dissipate until Lord Ravencrest raised his arm and shouted, "Move out!"

Like one cohesive being, the entire battalion shifted forward and soon enough, they were racing towards Zin-Azshari. Up at the front of the herd, Eliana spotted Illidan's ebony ponytail swinging back and forth. Right beside him rode the flame-haired stranger, and to Ravencrest's left rode Cytheas. Even though she couldn't ride with them, at least they were in her sights. Knowing they were still close by reassured her immensely, and she gripped her reins tighter as they approached the capital.

As the forest flew by on either side of them, Eliana's eyes turned towards the sky. The comforting normalcy of midnight blue gradually transitioned to an eerie, unnatural green, and Eliana gazed upward in abject horror.

"What in Elune's name?" she whispered. The soldiers beside her overheard her, and they followed her eyes upward. When they too noticed the change, they briefly touched their foreheads and then their hearts in quick prayer.

From the front lines, Lord Ravencrest called for a halt just before they crested over the hill. She was too far back to hear what they were saying, but she could tell he was discussing something with Cytheas and Rhonin. None of them looked particularly happy, and when Illidan pointed straight ahead, right at the capitol, they all faced forward again.

A faint rumble shook the ground, and Eliana and the soldiers around her glanced down before looking at each other in confusion. She couldn't see past the wide-reaching ranks of the soldiers ahead of her, but she didn't have to in order to know that whatever was coming was not good. As the vibration intensified, she looked ahead in fear, wishing more than anything that she could at least see what the enemy looked like so she knew what to expect.

Cytheas turned around and appeared to be frantically searching for her. When their eyes met, he gestured to the edge of the forest frantically, panic causing his motions to be more erratic. She raised her hand in confusion, trying to tell him that she didn't understand. A guttural, terrifying roar pierced the air, and she hunkered down in her saddle, covering her ears. The initial roar was followed by the sound of multiple screeches, and it resonated through the forest around them.

By the time she'd recovered, though still crippled by fear, Cytheas had turned back around to face the oncoming threat. He'd pulled his longsword from the sheath at his side, and both Illidan and the red-haired stranger had their hands raised, enveloped with the glowing aura of arcane energy.

Seconds later, the first demon Eliana had ever seen in her life came over the peak of the hill. Its leathery wings spanned across the sky, illuminated from behind by the perverse, emerald glow coming from their beloved capital. Horns sharper than she'd ever seen arced skyward, and it had skin deeper than crimson—a sinister, twisted shade of red unlike any other. It clenched its fists and let out another roar, and as if on command, strange creatures on all fours with undulating tentacle-like appendages darted out and attacked the Night Elven ranks.

The first screams of death and pain filled the air, and Eliana felt the ripples of agony spread through the air. Closing her eyes which had welled with tears, she tried to stem the panic that threatened to overtake her. After she took a few deep breaths, she grasped the hilts of her daggers as she opened them again. Clenching her jaw, she unsheathed them and held them at the ready as the soldiers beside her raced off to answer the calls of battle.

Whether or not she was ready, war was here.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Arenoptara and angelacm for beta-reading! Obviously, as is seen at the end of the chapter, we're finally to the more battle-heavy, action-based section of the plot. We're almost at the end of the first book in the trilogy, so I'm excited to explore Illidan's gradual transformation into the character we all know and love (for interesting reasons, I'm sure)!
> 
> Thank you as always to everyone who is still reading this :3 I always love hearing your thoughts, so don't be shy! I appreciate all of you guys :3


	14. Chapter 14

The disturbing scent of blood permeated the air—thick, coppery, oppressive, and stale. Eliana hated it with every fiber of her being. She hated how it made her stomach churn, how the faces of her now-dead brethren were all that she could see; hated how their screams had echoed around her, ringing through her ears until it had been the only sound she could remember hearing since they'd arrived at Zin-Azshari. More than anything else, she hated the ripples of agony and death that constantly passed through her, leaving her with a lingering, all-encompassing sense of loss.

So much death. So much destruction.

Even after days of fighting and struggling to stay alive, there still seemed to be no end in sight. She'd said a prayer for every soldier she could not save in time, and by this point, she couldn't remember how many times she'd done so. Every time her lips formed the now all-too familiar words, it was almost as if her mind went elsewhere, unable to process the fact that she was saying goodbye to yet another brother.

Eventually, the weight of it all would come crashing down on her, and she'd give in to the grief. But with the demons still coming, unrelentlessly trying to eradicate her people forever, it would not— _could not_ —be now.

As her dagger sliced into the red flesh of the hulking, colossal demon that stood in front of her, she let out a strained, but determined cry. Despite how drained she felt, she knew she had to keep going, no matter how exhausted her body might be, no matter how much her mind was at its end.

She would not die today.

The demon retaliated by stomping its cloven hoof, causing the ground to tremble enough to knock her off balance. As she fought to regain her stance, it raised the ax in its hand to cleave her in two. Before it could bring its arm back down, the appendage was enveloped in a vivid crimson glow. Tendrils of slowly darkening red twisted around its forearm before winding their way up to the joint of the demon's shoulder.

Eliana watched as the red shade deepened to an inky black, and unexpectedly, the demon's arm was severed. It let out a howl of acute pain, cradling the bleeding stump of its shoulder with crazed eyes. From behind the demon, a familiar blade appeared and sliced across the demon's neck, ending its wretched life.

When the corpse crashed to the ground with a thud, Cytheas was standing atop its back with a grim expression on his face.

"Eliana, are you all right?" he cried, hopping off the demon's back and sprinting over to her. Relief flooded through her at seeing that he was still alive, until he spoke again. "What were you thinking, taking on one of these on your own? It takes at least three of _us_ to kill one."

Normally, his concern would've touched her, but the condescending tone it was delivered with set her on edge. It likely didn't help that neither of them had slept in the past forty-eight hours, and everyone was running on fumes. That, and the fact that the last conversation they'd had, had been in a similar vein. It was one thing to worry about one another. It was a completely different matter for him to believe that she was incapable of keeping herself alive on the battlefield.

Clearly, she wasn't dead yet. What had he been thinking she was doing out here? Picking peaceblooms?

Irritated, she spat, "I _had_ it, Cytheas. In case you hadn't noticed, I've been handling myself just fine."

Remembering that they were in the midst of a battle where either of them could die without notice, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before she opened them once more.

"But thank you for helping me," she added quietly. His harsh expression softened and he nodded before gently touching her elbow. When she nodded in response, he turned and ran back into the fray.

Now that there was a lull in the battle, after Cytheas disappeared from her view, she scanned the frontline for any signs of Illidan or the Moon Guard. As much as Cytheas had dealt the final blow to that demon, she knew he hadn't done it all; there was no doubt that the red glow had been a spell, and she suspected that it had been Illidan's doing. She'd seen him cast a similar spell back towards the start of the battle.

Finally, she spotted him a few yards away at the forefront of the Moon Guard, barking commands and pointing at the cluster of demons over the hill. Once the group dispersed, he glanced up and caught her eye. The corner of his lips curled up in a slight grin, and she shook her head with a sigh as she stalked over to him.

"Eliana, I'm glad to see that you're alive and well," he murmured once she reached him.

"I'm sure that you are, considering you're keeping an eye on me. While I appreciate it," she reached out and touched his forearm ever so slightly, "you should worry more about yourself."

"I'm perfectly all right, Eliana."

"Yes, and so am I," she tried to convince him, in a firm but kind voice.

With a stern look, he studied her face for a long moment. His expression was undecipherable, but she wasn't so sure that it was a _good_ expression. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, a shrill horn blared throughout the forest. It was a warning from Lord Ravencrest's personal horn—by now, she'd recognize the sound of his call in an instant.

They both glanced towards the palace, and Eliana felt the blood rush from her face at the sight of more demons pouring out of the gates. The entire Night Elven force shifted, and one-by-one, they all stared up at the horrific sight of what once had been a place of such comfort and pride. A place that was now the source of what was shaping up to be the end of everything they knew.

"Will it ever end?" she whispered, feeling more discouraged than she had a few minutes ago.

It had seemed like their forces were gaining the upper hand. Somehow, they'd all managed to beat back the demons, whittle down their numerous ranks and begin to push them back towards the palace gates. With the new wave that was rapidly approaching them, it seemed many of her brethren shared her sense of hopelessness. As she glanced around at what little remained of their own ranks, she let out a long, crestfallen sigh.

How many more of them would perish before the end of the day?

Illidan, however, did not seem to be of the same opinion. His hands clenched into tight fists as he watched the approaching horde. To their right, along the treeline, Eliana heard rustling that immediately had her grip tightening on her daggers. Before she could face the incoming threat, Illidan threw a spell in the direction of the sound, and Eliana heard the gurgle of a dying demon. Its corpse came bursting out of the trees and fell to the ground, causing its now-decapitated head to roll to the side.

Illidan must've cast the same spell he'd used on the demon she'd been fighting earlier, and after staring at the severed demon head with dispassionate eyes, she looked back at Illidan's profile. He'd always been willing to do what needed to be done in order to succeed, despite the cost, but she'd never pegged him as _cruel_. This particular spell was more gruesome than she'd guessed he could be, but war did things that changed people in irrevocable ways. Even she herself had made calls she never would've thought she'd make before they'd arrived at the capital.

Everything was different now.

A few seconds after Eliana had faced him again, Illidan straightened, pushing his shoulders back with renewed determination. With a tense jaw and hands still clenched at his sides, he muttered, "Let them come."

* * *

_Hours later._

Eliana wiped off the viscous blood that saturated her daggers on her thigh before looking back up at the battlefield. Demon blood could be anywhere in the spectrum from a brilliant blue, to a neon green, to a deep, twisted ebony that sent shivers running down her spine. She'd killed so many by this point that she could hardly tell what color her blades were now.

While the Night Elven troops had managed to somewhat lessen the oncoming horde, the demons kept coming their way. No matter what they did, or how hard they fought, it seemed as if the enemy's forces were limitless. There was no way they could continue fighting forever. Eventually, they would tire, or morale would disappear completely, and that would be the end of the Night Elven race.

As much as she hated to admit it, even just to herself, she was worried they were already at that point. More often than yesterday, and even the day before, she could feel the waves of death threatening to overtake her. The first day, they'd come sparingly—perhaps one every few hours. Now, she could feel souls passing through in multitudes, all throughout the hour.

It was too much—far too much.

When she felt the warmth of yet another life die out, like the wick of a candle being extinguished far too early, she clutched at her chest as a tear slid down her cheek. She would give anything to allow her people to live, to survive this horrific war. Anything.

How could Elune simply stand by and watch her children perish so needlessly?

As she stood there, fighting to regain her composure, Illidan's voice carried across the field. She glanced up at the familiar sound, searching for his broad-shouldered, strong figure. He came into view just down the hill, as he gestured frantically between the Moon Guard and himself; his expression was pinched into one of extreme concentration. Every remaining member of the Guard—which admittedly, was not much—raised their arms and pointed them towards Illidan.

Sparkling tendrils of magic floated through the air, twisting together into a single, prismatic rivulet of power. It arced and ebbed towards him, taking a path all on its own. Once the glowing stream of magical energy hit him in the center of his chest, he closed his eyes, taking in the concentrated, multiplied strength of his peers.

When he next opened them, they seemed to blaze brighter than she'd ever seen them glow. With seemingly renewed determination, he spun around and faced the demons once more. He lifted his now-illuminated hand to cast a spell, and once the coil of combined energy left him, the entire front line of the demons erupted in a consecutive heap of gore and death.

She cringed at the gruesome display of strength, but had to admit that despite the grim method, the Moon Guard _did_ produce results.

Distracted by the awe-inspiring spell, she hadn't heard the rapid stomping of a felhound racing up behind her. The beast's hooves collided with her back, sending them both sprawling over the crest of the hill. They tumbled towards the plains below, and every time her elbows collided with the ground, she cringed in pain.

Finally, they crashed to a halt. Not willing to give the creature the upper hand a second time, Eliana nimbly bowed her body so that she rolled right back onto her feet. After placing her daggers at the ready, she crept towards the immobile felhound, waiting for it to make a move. It was playing dead, she knew that for certain. It took more than a tumble down the hillside to kill these unnatural beasts.

When she was only a few feet away, the end of one of its horns sliced into her right forearm. She hissed in pain as she almost dropped the dagger in that hand, before she tightened her grip and returned the attack. Her blade caught the end of a tentacle, and the severed appendage fell to the ground as the felhound let out a sharp, wailing cry.

It rose up from the ground, and its head swiveled around to stare in her direction. She couldn't tell where its eyes were, but she knew it could see her. Its mouth slowly opened, revealing rows upon rows of sharpened teeth. Drool oozed out of the gaps between its fangs, and she suppressed a disgusted, fearful shudder.

This was the first felhound she'd faced on the battlefield. Somehow, she'd managed to avoid them and deal only with the bipedal demons; it seemed as if most of the hounds aimed for the sorcerers. She'd been farther up the hill since the start of the battle, since Cytheas had placed her closer to the center of the ranks. Once the troops had spread out, she'd inadvertently remained farther back from the front line.

Now that their ranks were dwindling, she had no idea where she was in the formation. Considering the sudden appearance of the felhound, she assumed she was closer to the sorcerers, and Illidan, than she'd initially thought. Especially after their tumble down the hill.

The felhound darted forward, leaping from the ground with its muscular hind legs. At the last second, she rolled to the side and sliced upwards with her dagger, managing to land a hit just above the beast's ribs. It let out a howl and rounded on her again, rolling its body like a sabercat would to rid itself of moisture in its fur. It was an odd action for a demonic creature, and Eliana watched it warily, unsure of what it would do next.

Without warning, it barreled towards her, angling its body so that one of the two massive spikes that jutted out from its torso was aimed in her direction. Quickly, she backpedaled, trying to give herself more space to come up with a plan of defense before the hound reached her. Before she knew it, it was upon her, knocking her to the ground with a solid hoof.

Acute pain radiated from her ribs, and she worried that it may have broken one. She hit the ground hard, and the air whooshed out of her lungs upon impact. Shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of the dizziness, she glanced up just as the felhound was arcing through the air towards her.

Panic flooded through her, and she groped along the ground for one of her daggers. When she couldn't find it, she decided to take a chance and twist her body around to search for it. It was laying on the ground not far from her, and she desperately lunged for it. Her fingertips had just barely grazed the pommel when the felhound latched onto her boot, tugging her towards itself, and farther away from her weapon.

One of its fangs sank into her foot, and she cried out before gritting her teeth. Facing forward again, she attempted to kick it in the side of the head with her other foot. Her attack did nothing, and as it scrambled up her body, she tried to shimmy backwards, away from it. It pinned her abdomen with its hooves, and she grunted in pain when it grazed her ribs once more. When it was just over her face, a wave of hot, rotting breath swept over her and she gagged at the smell.

Desperately, she reached up and grabbed its jaw, trying to push it away from sinking its fangs into her face. It continued to snap at her, seemingly wanting nothing more than to tear her to pieces.

Out of nowhere, it let out a pained yelp and reared its head back. When it twisted its head around to glance over its shoulder, she followed its gaze, surprised to find Illidan approaching them with his hand outstretched.

He threw out another spell, and when it hit the felhound in the side, it staggered back, off of Eliana. She took this opportunity to flip around and scramble across the ground towards her weapons. When she was mere inches away from her dagger, she heard an angered squeal, followed by the sound of the felhound racing towards her. The second her fingers wrapped around the handle of her blade, she faced forward again and thrust it upwards. The felhound fell onto her blade, impaling itself and spattering its blood all over the front of her armor.

It gurgled, and she grabbed her other dagger from the ground, driving it up through the felhound's jaw. Once it slumped over, finally dead, she threw its corpse aside and fought to catch her breath.

Her hands shook, and unable to get her tremors under control, she set her daggers in her lap before clasping her hands together. Illidan ran into view, crouching down to her eye-level as she watched his lips move. Clearly he was saying something, but Eliana couldn't hear anything over the deafening sound of her heartbeat.

When she didn't respond, he furrowed his eyebrows before reaching out and cradling her cheek. Still, she couldn't bring herself to move, unable to do anything else aside from staring into his eyes.

"...ana… Eli...Eliana!" His other hand came up and rested on her other cheek. All at once, it was like the sounds of the entire world came crashing back to her. "Eliana, can you hear me? Are you hurt?"

"No, I—I'm fine," she murmured.

"You're covered in blood," he argued, placing his hands under her elbows to help her rise to her feet.

"It's not mine. At least, I don't think it is."

"Are you in pain anywhere?"

At the mention of pain, the dull throb in her side flared to life again, and her hand flew to cradle her ribs. "I think one of my ribs may be fractured."

"I don't know where the healers have gone. Someone in the Moon Guard may be able to help. Come," he instructed, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders as he started to guide her towards the group just ahead.

Indignant for whatever reason, she shrugged his arm off and insisted, "I can heal myself."

"Not in your condition. If you try to cast or...plead with Elune—whatever it is you priestesses do—you'll likely collapse."

Miffed at his downplay of her role, her faith, she faced him with a glare. "We _heal_ , Illidan. We provide hope for peace, and—"

He reached out and grabbed her hand, interrupting her. "I'm sorry, Eliana, I was not trying to say it wasn't important. But you need real assistance. I don't think a simple prayer to Elune will be enough to mend your wounds."

At first, she opened her mouth to retort, until she realized he was right. The sharp pain in her side was gradually worsening, and she knew she needed medical attention before she could get back into the fight. Yes, she could have healed herself, _if_ she was in peak condition. Illidan hadn't been exaggerating or lying when he said she couldn't handle it right now; she would lose consciousness if she tried to do anything that intensive.

"Very well," she conceded with a sigh.

He nodded before winding his arm around her waist, helping her walk the rest of the way towards the Moon Guard. The flame-haired human, Rhonin, was standing beside one of the members, deep in conversation. She'd been surprised to see him in Lord Ravencrest's tent back at the camp, but considering he was still alive and well—albeit covered in various shades of blood and dirt—he must've been a far more skilled sorcerer than she initially thought he was.

Rhonin glanced in their direction as they approached, and when they stood just beside him, he swiftly ended his conversation to face them. "Eliana, Illidan, I am glad to see that the both of you are well." When his gaze shifted lower across Eliana's body, he met her eyes—this time, with cinched brows. "Or am I mistaken?"

Illidan shifted her weight in his arms before replying, "She believes a rib may be fractured."

"Felhounds are…" Eliana trailed off, wincing when Illidan's elbow bumped her side.

He murmured a quiet apology, while Rhonin nodded in agreement. "They're not the most pleasant of creatures to interact with, for certain. Equally as unfortunate is the fact that I do not specialize in the art of healing. I could attempt to cast a spell, but the risk of what may happen is, in my opinion, not worth it."

Illidan grimaced slightly before stepping in front of Eliana. "Can you hang on until we can find a proper healer?"

"I suppose I'll have to," she replied, cradling her side. "I can manage a small spell for now. It should tide me over until it can be bound."

Though he didn't appear to be happy with their options, it was unfortunately, as Rhonin said, their _only_ option. The mage looked thoughtful for a moment, until he suggested, "Why don't you go ask one of the soldiers? They may not have dedicated healers, but I'm sure someone in their ranks will be adept enough at tending to a fractured rib."

"A fair point. I—" Illidan began to agree, until Rhonin looked over his shoulder with a troubled, dark expression.

"Another throng of demons is approaching. Go, I'll buy you some time." He raised his arm, ready to channel a spell.

A quick glance back in the direction they'd come from proved that Rhonin was right, and Illidan and Eliana quickly shuffled in the direction of Lord Ravencrest's banner. She'd always thought that was ostentatious and unnecessary to carry a massive flag into the throes of battle, but now, as they sought out the commander's best soldiers, it didn't seem quite as ridiculous.

About half way there, the pain in her side increased exponentially, and she whimpered in surprise at the sudden onslaught of pain. Illidan paused in mid-step and pulled his arm away, placing his palm softly against her side.

"What is it?" he questioned, brows tight with concern.

"It just...the pain's intensified. I'm not sure I can make it all the way over there."

He held her gaze in silence for a few seconds, until he nodded. After glancing at their surroundings, he pulled her aside into the treeline. It didn't offer much shelter, but at least they were out of immediate view of any enemies. "Very well. I'll have to do what I can, then."

" _Y_ - _You_? Can you heal?" Eliana sputtered.

"No, I can't. But what I _can_ do is going to have to suffice."

He pulled off the band securing his high ponytail, letting his ebony locks fall free. They framed his face, thick and wild, and as inappropriate as the timing was, all she wanted to do was run her hands through the long strands. She'd never seen his hair down, and the fact that it was and he was within reach, was putting wholly improper thoughts in her head. The forest was oddly quiet, considering what was happening mere yards away, but the silence amplified her train of thought.

"Hold this," he instructed, handing her the leather band before shrugging off his leather jerkin.

All he wore underneath his armor was a thin linen shirt, once cream-colored, but now saturated with dirt and sweat. A quick spell, murmured under his breath, rid the shirt of any stains. With it now pristine and free from contamination, he placed it in his mouth and bit the seam, ripping the shirt into small strips. Once he was finished, he gestured to Eliana's own armor.

"Take that off so I can see your ribs."

"I...I—But you—"

"Eliana, we don't have time for you to be shy. I need to bind your chest as tightly as possible so that you don't further damage your ribs until we can find a true healer," he explained, sounding impatient.

Face burning, she fiddled with her fingers for a few seconds until she let out a short sigh. "Fine," she mumbled, unlacing the front of her armor before pulling it from her shoulders.

Now she stood in nothing but her thin undershirt. As she moved to pull it over her head, it tugged on her side and she hissed in pain. Illidan shuffled forward and pressed his fingers against her side, grunting in concern when he touched her skin.

"It wasn't just your rib that took the blow; you've a gash in your side that's crusted over."

"Wonderful," she muttered, arms still up in the air with her shirt covering her face.

Something wet and slightly cold touched her side, and once the dried blood had been saturated, Illidan pulled the shirt completely off. She lowered her arms, crossing them over her chest to block her brassiere from his view. She was certain it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, but he'd never seen _her_ like this, and that made it completely different.

Thankfully, Illidan's gaze didn't linger and he prodded her wound, occasionally humming in thought. "I can't heal your wound, but we can still bind your ribs. Hope that it isn't already infected."

"As if it could get any worse."

"It always can, Eliana," he replied, his eyes flickering up to hers before returning to the task at hand. Feeling thoroughly reprimanded, she didn't reply.

He grabbed a strip of linen, reaching behind her to wind it around her midsection. When he'd brought it back around to meet the other side, he instructed her to hold it in place. She acquiesced, and he grabbed another strip, repeating the motion until they were all gone and her ribs were swathed in linen.

After grabbing the leather strap from her other hand, he wrapped that around her as well, securing it over the wound with a quick knot. Once he was finished, he stepped back and asked, "Does it feel loose at all?"

A quick bend from side to side proved it to be secure, and she replied, "No, it feels fine."

"Good. Get dressed, and we'll see if we can't go find Cytheas."

She'd been leaning over to pick up her shirt when he said that, and she paused in mid-air. "Do we _have_ to tell him?"

"Yes, we do. So he can keep an eye out for a healer that can assist you."

Inwardly, she groaned. She'd never hear the end of it from him, once he found out she'd been injured. Technically, she wouldn't even call it an injury—she was barely nicked. Cytheas would most certainly see it differently.

Once she had her armor re-fastened, they stepped out of the treeline and back into the chaos of the battlefield—though it was thankfully not as hectic as it had been a few hours ago. They'd only taken a few steps when Cytheas came bursting out of the group to their left.

"I am entirely not surprised that we didn't have to go far before he showed up," Illidan murmured.

"He means well," Eliana mumbled in response.

"I know, that's exactly what I meant."

By then, Cytheas had reached them, and he grasped Eliana's upper arms tightly in his grip—a bit _too_ tightly. "Eliana! I spoke with Rhonin and he'd said you were injured. Where? Is it bad?"

"Cytheas, slow down. A felhound managed to catch me in the side with its hoof. I'm fine."

"That's not entirely true," Illidan commented.

She turned and glared at him, and he shrugged unapologetically before continuing, "Her rib may be fractured, but the demon happened to cut her. The wound isn't too deep, but it will need tending to before long."

"That's hardly 'fine', Eli," Cytheas reprimanded. He turned her before inspecting her side, surprised to find he couldn't see anything. "Well, where—"

Illidan interrupted him and said, "We already took care of it. You can worry about it later. For now, we've got company."

He pointed up at the palace, in the direction of an approaching group of demons. Two felhounds led the charge, and three of the horned demons that she'd faced earlier were right on their tails. Eliana hadn't realized how close they'd gotten to the palace since she'd come tumbling down the hill, and the knowledge sent a fresh wave of anxiety rolling through her.

Somehow, being on the same level as the encroaching horde seemed so much worse than being up above on the hill. She clenched the hilts of her daggers tightly, and Cytheas and Illidan moved in front of her to take point.

Cytheas glanced over her shoulder at her, and asked, "Can you fight in your condition?"

"I'm going to have to," she replied, her gaze locked on the colossal horned demons.

Cytheas and Illidan shared a glance before Cytheas said over his shoulder, "We'll do the best we can to protect you."

Instead of the usual irritation she felt at being coddled, gratitude swept through her, and she nodded.

Before they knew it, the demons were upon them. Illidan cast a spell that froze one of the felhounds in place, and Cytheas charged forward at it, slashing downwards to sever one of its tentacles. Rooted in place by Illidan's spell, the felhound had no choice but to suffer from their combined strength.

While the males were occupied taking down the first felhound, the second circled around them and fixated its gaze on Eliana. She gripped her daggers with sweaty palms, focusing on keeping her breathing even for when it finally pounced on her. Without warning, it darted forward and leapt into the air, heading straight for her face.

Using its momentum against it, she ducked and rolled forward. The felhound sailed over her and landed a few feet away, swiveling back around faster than she'd expected it to. This time, though, she was ready. When it dove for her, she feinted to the side and slashed at its underbelly, narrowly avoiding the end of one of its tentacles.

Cytheas must've sliced off the tentacle first for a reason, so when the felhound turned its head away, she spun and severed a tentacle on her own enemy. She didn't want to find out what happened if the end touched her.

Her swing landed her off-balance, however, and when the felhound ran for her again, she wasn't able to dodge it. Just like the first one she fought, it tackled her to the ground. She heard her daggers fall to the ground, and swore inwardly at her possibly fatal mistake—the same one she'd made earlier.

The felhound's jaws snapped inches away from her face, and its acidic drool dripped down onto her chest, though she hardly registered the slight sting. A quick glance told her that Cytheas and Illidan had dispatched their felhound, but were currently occupied trying to take down one of the larger, bipedal demons.

She was on her own.

With a strained grunt, she pushed against the felhound's inhuman strength and determination to bite her head off. When one of its fangs grazed her chin, she panicked and cried out in fear.

Was this it? Was this the way she would perish?

Just when she'd resigned herself to her fate, a sudden surge of immense energy and power rushed through her. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she felt warm, comforted, as if a lost friend or family member had returned to her.

Confused, but by no means willing to waste this opportunity, she let out a fierce cry and shoved the felhound off of her. It landed beside her on its back, scrambling to get back onto its feet. With hurried motions, she scrambled over to her daggers and swiped them off of the forest floor, grasping them in her hands once more.

When she turned around, the felhound had recovered and was pacing around her, watching her. She followed its motions, shifting in place to stay face-to-face with her enemy. This time, when it rushed her, she ran to meet it, unleashing a frenzied attack with her weapons. The felhound was forced to switch tactics, unwilling to meet the edges of her daggers willingly.

It tried to jump to the side, but she followed it, taking advantage of her renewed strength. With another cry, she drove one of her daggers into the thick hide of the felhound's side. It cried out in pain; the sound was a sharp, keening one. In one fluid motion, she spun around and sliced upwards with her other dagger, cutting into the felhound's throat.

Its putrid blood spilled out onto the ground, tainting the veridian moss of the forest floor. After yanking her other dagger out of its side, she drove it down into the felhound's skull, finally killing it.

With a thud, its body collided with the ground. Her chest heaving, Eliana wiped the sweat from her brow before frantically searching the battlefield for Cytheas and Illidan.

Apparently, the unsuspected wave of energy had affected their entire race, not just her. The pair of warriors had already dispatched the demon she'd seen them fighting earlier, and were now attempting to kill the remaining two on their own. Cytheas had taken the one with slightly darker skin that was such a deep red, it reminded her of coagulated blood. Illidan had taken the other—the one with slightly longer, more curved horns. It roared at him, revealing elongated, sharp fangs.

A shiver wracked her spine before she shook her head in frustration. Fear had no place on this battlefield, and she fought to suppress it as she sprinted off to join them.

Keeping her speed up, she fell into a slide when she reached them, slicing the tendons of the demon Illidan was fighting with. It crumpled to the ground in surprise, letting out a howl of pain. When it looked over its shoulder and snarled at her, Illidan took the opportunity to wind a spell around its throat, and the powerful aura that surrounded him caused the ends of his hair to flail in the unnatural wind. Eliana watched as the demon's face slowly became darker, and eventually, it asphyxiated, collapsing to the ground in a heap.

He nodded at her, apparent relief flooding his expression when he took her appearance in. She returned the gesture, feeling much the same when she realized that he didn't seem to be injured in the slightest. They both rounded on the demon Cytheas was finishing off, gauging whether he needed their help or not.

Within seconds, Cytheas had hooked his arm around the demon's massive bicep and swung himself around its body, using his momentum to reach around and slice its neck. It was much the same way he'd killed the demon Eliana had faced on her own, all those hours ago.

When both of his feet were back on solid ground, he looked up at them and quickly walked over to join them. "What exactly was that wave of energy we felt?"

"I've no idea," Eliana murmured.

"Neither do I, but I'm not complaining in the slightest," Illidan added.

Out of nowhere, the sound of Lord Ravencrest's voluminous, commanding horn rang out throughout the ruins of the capital. All around them, the remaining droves of demons retreated to the palace gates. A few of Ravencrest's warriors followed after them, picking off the stragglers that lagged behind.

When Illidan spotted them, he surged forward, newfound energy in his eyes. "They need help! I'm going to gather the Moon Guard and rally them so that we can finish these demons off!"

Cytheas frowned as Illidan sprinted off, clearly disapproving of the other male's actions. "Can't he see the rest of us are exhausted?"

At the mention of exhaustion, all of the previous energy in Eliana's body seemed to leech out of her, dissipating into thin air. "I know _I_ am," she offered with a shrug.

Now that the adrenaline had left her, the dull throbbing in her side was quickly escalating to sharp, stabbing pains. The unfamiliar heat of the midday sun beating down on her seemed to sap her of any remaining energy, and she wobbled on her feet. Quickly, Cytheas stepped to her side and wound his arm around her waist.

"What is it?" he questioned, his eyebrows drawn tight with concern.

"I just...my injury. I think I may have pushed myself a tad bit too hard." Dizzy, she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead as she swayed in place.

Cytheas tightened his arms around her, scanning the plains for Ravencrest. "I'm sure we'll set up camp for the remainder of the daylight hours; I doubt the commander will want to continue fighting when the sun is so high in the sky. Let's go find him. I'll see if he brought that spare tent we'd set up for you before."

They staggered in the direction of where the horn's call had come from, and Cytheas kept looking from side-to-side, keeping an eye out for Ravencrest. Eliana did what she could to help, but the edges of her vision were growing blurry, and she felt so, so tired.

All she wanted to do was sleep. Was that so much to ask?

Finally, he must have spotted the commander, because he hoisted her up in his arms before quickly making his way through the throng of warriors. By now, Eliana's eyes had slid shut. They felt so heavy, and it took far too much effort to keep them open. In the haze of semi-consciousness, she heard the deep baritone of Cytheas' voice as he spoke to someone.

Interspersed with the familiar sound of her friend's voice, she heard the rapid padding of multiple mounts' paws, though the sound gradually faded into the distance. Rustling joined in, and then more footsteps approached. They pounded against the ground harder, and the steps were closer together; an elf, then, not a sabercat.

Illidan's panicked voice rang out, but she couldn't pick out individual words. She just knew that he sounded alarmed. Someone else piped up, but she didn't immediately recognize the voice. Concentrating on the various sounds around her was starting to make her head pound, so she slung her arm over her forehead, groaning in discomfort.

The conversation died down, and she let out an inadvertent sigh. A few minutes later, when she was set down on something soft, she finally lost consciousness.

Slowly, Eliana cracked open her eyelids, relieved to find that the tent she was in was dark. With the headache that was currently assaulting her brain, she wasn't sure she could handle the blinding brightness of the sun—especially with her sensitive eyes.

She tried to sit up, wincing when she twisted her body to the side too fast. Surprised that only a hint of pain assaulted her, versus the sharp, crippling pain she'd come to expect, she looked down at her body in confusion.

A stretchy, woven wrap replaced the crude linen strips that Illidan had wrapped around her ribs earlier. Underneath the wrap, a gauze bandage rested against her ribs where the felhound had sliced into her skin. Tentatively, she bent her body from side to side, sighing in relief when the pain didn't escalate.

Someone must've had a healer work on her.

After glancing upwards again, she questioned whether a few hours had passed, or whether Lord Ravencrest had decided to camp overnight before they continued their assault on the palace. Or rather, to take back the palace and hopefully save their queen from these horrific demons.

She'd barely swung her legs over the side of her cot, when the flap of her tent swung open hard enough to slap against the side. Her head shot up, expecting to see Cytheas. When she realized that Illidan had stepped into her tent, her eyes widened in surprise. Remembering that she wore nothing but her brassiere and the bandage around her waist, she scrambled for a blanket, or a shirt—anything to cover herself up with.

Without a single word, he stalked across the space, closing the distance between them. Before she could comprehend what he was thinking, his lips crashed against hers, and his hand wound its way into the hair at the base of her neck.

If her mouth hadn't been covered with his, she would've gasped in shock. As it were, her gasp was swallowed by Illidan.

The kiss was passionate, frantic almost, and completely unlike the few tentative, explorative kisses they'd shared thus far. Confusion still tickled the back of her mind, but Illidan was so demanding and all-encompassing, that she wasn't able to focus on it for long.

A few minutes later, he broke away to plant soft, gentle kisses along the edge of her jawline. Her eyes fluttered as she let out a breathy gasp. Overwhelmed, her hands flew up to grasp his upper arms for balance.

Finally, he leaned back and lowered his head onto his chest, which was heaving with every breath he took. Eliana looked down at him, staring at the top of his head. Hesitantly, she reached up and interlaced her fingers behind his neck, caressing his skin.

"Illidan, what…?" She trailed off, unsure of what to say, and opting to let him speak when he was ready.

When he raised his head, his eyes were heavy-lidded, but his brows were drawn tight together. "When I saw you, immobile and in Cytheas' arms, I...I thought…"

"You thought what?" she asked, cradling his face with her hand.

He closed his eyes again, worrying his bottom lip as he seemed to struggle to find the words to say. In a strained, tight voice, he then said, "I thought you were dead."

"You'd seen me earlier. I was fine."

"Yes, but then I left. I walked away when I knew you were injured, and still, I left to chase after my own ambitions. What kind of male does that make me? What kind of friend does that make me?" he spat, pushing off of the cot to pace back and forth. The tent was small, so he didn't go far, but Eliana could see that he was incredibly agitated.

She tried to speak, but he whirled around and gestured at her. Seemingly frustrated, he exclaimed, "I _left you_ without ensuring you received proper care. For all I knew, you could have died in the short time that I was chasing after those wretched demons!"

"But I didn't, and now I'm fine. Illidan, you're being far too hard on yourself," she reassured him, rising to her feet.

His eyes remained trained on her face, but briefly, they flickered down to her bandage. "If you died, I—I...couldn't..."

"I didn't die."

"But if you—"

She stepped forward and reached up for his face again. He tried to lean back, but she forced him to look down at her. "If I _do_ , then that wouldn't be your fault. We are at war, and sadly, many of our people have died so far. I imagine more will stilldie in the days to come. But I _didn't_ die, Illidan, and you have to remember that. I'm standing here, in front of you, right now."

He clenched his jaw so hard, she could see the muscle in his cheek twitching. Finally, he nodded, albeit imperceptibly, and she lifted her other hand to cradle his face.

"I'm touched that you'd be that upset, though," she teased with a wry smile, trying to ease the tension in the air.

A low, quiet chuckle escaped him, and she nearly sighed in relief; the sound caused her abdomen to flutter with nerves. He lifted his hands and rested them on her waist, seemingly uncaring that she wasn't wearing a shirt of any kind. "You should know by now that I would be."

When he started to lean down, she murmured, "I'd hoped," and their lips touched once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Arenoptara for beta-reading for me, as always. Your advice is invaluable.
> 
> Thank you SO much to alice131 and Diannak for the comments! This story doesn't get nearly as much attention on here as it does on FFN, so I always love when people leave comments on my stories here. Don't hesitate to reach out and/or comment about something you really enjoyed (or even hated)! I love discussing things with my readers.


	15. Chapter 15

War was not a new concept to Lord Ravencrest, and it was immediately noticeable in the way he organized his troops. When Eliana and Illidan emerged from her tent a few minutes later, they'd discovered that the commander already sent out scouting parties, tasked with finding out just how far the demons' destruction had spread throughout Kalimdor.

As a result, the camp seemed less boisterous than their last one; the clanging of hammer against anvil was less common, and there were fewer bodies milling about. But...that could also be because much of their force was decimated in this first major battle in the war, and that knowledge sobered Eliana.

She and Illidan stood beside one another, gazing around at the remainder of their army. Though she knew there'd been little she alone could do to save them, she hoped that they had a better chance at winning this, now that the spell on the Well of Eternity had been lifted.

Or so Rhonin had said.

That had been part of the reason Illidan had come to find her. He'd spoken with Rhonin while waiting for her to awaken, and the red-haired sorcerer had surmised that Malfurion had succeeded in whatever it was he'd been trying to do back in Suramar. While it seemed like all of the sorcerers were elated at the return of their power, both Rhonin and Illidan were worried for Malfurion.

It was true that the spell being lifted boded well for the Night Elves, but if that was the case, then where was Malfurion? Why had he not arrived with Tyrande and Broxigar to join them at the camp?

Illidan was worried for his brother, and Eliana was worried for their people's survival.

She knew war was a morbid affair, filled with death and destruction and little cause for smiles, but the reality was always far worse than one thought. It seemed like there was constantly something for them to worry about.

The worst part of it all was that their only viable course of action was to wait. Lord Ravencrest had commanded that they do nothing until the scouting parties returned with news of Kalimdor's condition. Only then could the leaders of the army determine what their best plan would be.

However, waiting made soldiers restless, and even Eliana found herself shifting in place more often than not from impatience.

Illidan suffered from it far more than most. He paced back and forth relentlessly for the better part of the last few hours, and eventually, he pivoted on his heel to face Eliana.

"I'm going to see if I can find out anything about the status of those search parties. I'm anxious to return to the battlefield."

Concerned, Eliana cinched her eyebrows together. "Illidan, you've hardly rested. We don't know what Lord Ravencrest's plans will be. We could ride out in five minutes or five hours."

"Exactly, except it feels more likely to be five hours. We should hit them _now_ , when they least expect it."

"And have half the troops keel over from exhaustion? Not everyone is gifted with the same amount of burning passion as you, you know." Though she was trying to convince him to rest, she made it sound like she was teasing him, lest he bristled.

An anxious Illidan made for a rather irritable Illidan, as she'd discovered during their wait. His only response to her comment was a grunt, and then he continued his incessant pacing. She sighed and sank down onto a crate that rested just outside her tent, her thighs aching in protest. The healer had mended the wound in her side, but they couldn't take away her soreness.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing; she didn't want to forget the fact that she was lucky to be alive, while so many others were not.

A few minutes later, Illidan threw his hands up in the air and announced, "I'm going to speak to Lord Ravencrest. I'll be back momentarily," before stalking off in the direction of the commander's tent.

Eliana barely had time to wave farewell, he'd turned around so fast. Not wanting to stare after his retreating figure like a lovesick sabercat, her gaze flitted around the camp. Nothing held her interest, as she wasn't necessarily looking for anything in particular. Eventually, her eyes drifted up towards the walls surrounding the capital.

They were still a few miles away, in what had once been the plains just outside the city's walls. When the demon's retreated behind the gates, they'd swung shut with a final thud that echoed across the battlefield. Ever since then, the city had fallen eerily quiet. There was no motion from the inhabitants, and an unnatural, sickly green fog had rolled out from the gates shortly after.

Unable to look away, Eliana shivered in fear, disgust, and sorrow. If the city was that quiet, it was likely because there _were_ no inhabitants left. The demons had rushed out of those gates with a thirst for death in their eyes, and she couldn't imagine they'd left any elf alive before they reached the plains.

If that was the case, though, then what was everyone in the palace doing? Illidan had mentioned that Malfurion suspected the queen was part of all this, but _why_? Why would she throw all of her people to the demons? What reason could she possibly have?

Footsteps scuffing through the dirt approached from behind her tent. Eliana whipped her head towards the sound, all thoughts of the queen forgotten. As she slowly rose to her feet, she gripped the handles of her daggers, tensing in preparation for whatever was coming.

When Cytheas strolled into view, looking nonchalant and amiable—albeit exhausted—she let out a relieved sigh and relaxed her hand at her side. "You can't sneak up on me like that, Cyth," she reprimanded.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Sorry, I thought you heard me coming."

"I _did_. That's why I was tense. I didn't realize it was you." She brushed an errant strand of hair back from her face, before looking towards the palace once more. "Do you have any news?"

"No, not yet," he replied as he sidled up to her. After crossing his arms over his chest and following her gaze, he added, "The Moon Guard teleported Jarod back to Suramar to check in with the hold. Once he sends word, I think Lord Ravencrest will determine what we do."

"What are our options?"

"Well, we don't have much. Either we stay here and form another offensive plan, or we return to Suramar and recuperate until a new plan comes together. We need new intel in order to choose."

"Which is why we're waiting on the scouting parties and Jarod's report, right?"

"Right. Look at you, figuring out all sides of the problem. Why didn't you decide to become a soldier instead?" Cytheas teased, reaching up and tugging on her earlobe.

She brushed him off with a smile, and said, "I can't be a soldier, you know that. I am a novice, training to be a fully-fledged Priestess of Elune."

"I've seen your Sentinels fight. You _are_ soldiers."

"The Sentinels, perhaps. Me..." She trailed off at the reminder of her newfound experience in battle, and her smile fell. With her gaze still trained on the palace, surrounded by that perverse green fog, she quietly added, "We are what we need to be, when we need to be it. Be that soldier, priestess, or otherwise."

Cytheas' mirth dissipated at her response, and he let out a long sigh. "Eliana, I know I gave you a hard time before, about joining us in battle. But you know why I did, don't you?"

"Because you didn't think I could handle myself out there," she stated, utterly sure of his reason.

He faced her head-on, gently turning her shoulder so that she was facing him, too. "No, that's not why at all. I trust that you can handle yourself just fine. The Temple has trained you, I've trained you. I know that you are capable."

"Then why? Why couldn't you simply believe in me?"

"I _do_. I just couldn't...I couldn't stand to lose you. We still don't know where your father is, or whether he's alive. We don't know how Malfurion is doing back in Suramar. There are so many unknowns right now, so many people missing. I couldn't let _you_ be one of them, too."

Eliana blinked back tears at the mention of her father. Her home had been almost completely destroyed, razed nearly to the ground. How he could've possibly survived that, she had no idea. All of the evidence pointed to his death, and yet, there was still an inkling of hope deep in her heart. Elune had taught her to never lose faith, and until she had solid proof, she would choose to believe that they may find him yet.

However, Cytheas was right. There were many elves who had perished already, but even more still had been lost in the throes of battle—casualties of war. What of all of the inhabitants of the capital? What of all the elves who had fled Suramar before the war had escalated?

Tears welled in her eyes again, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, unwilling to succumb to the grief she'd been holding back thus far. When Cytheas' arms enveloped her in a tight hug, she let out a gasp and reeled back in surprise.

"You need to let it out, Eli. I know you've been trying to keep it in, and remain strong for everyone around you, but sometimes, being able to let it out _makes_ you stronger."

"I don't want to—I can't just...lose it in the middle of the camp. I—"

"You can. Come on." He pulled back and lifted the flap to her tent, leading her inside shortly afterwards.

She floated along after him, her body feeling numb from all of the emotions that were coursing through her. When he sat her down on the bed and crouched down in front of her, the memory of Illidan doing the exact same thing flashed through her mind. Her cheeks darkened in remembrance, and she looked down at her hands in her lap, trying to hide her face from Cytheas.

She and Illidan had done little more than kiss, but it wasn't exactly something she wanted to broadcast to her closest friend, who just so happened to have feelings for her.

He rested his weight on the balls of his feet, letting his arms drape down over his thighs. She'd expected him to reach up and touch her, offering physical comfort, but to her surprise, he didn't. He simply peered up at her, concern etched on his face.

"Eliana, let it out."

"No," she stated, shaking her head.

He sighed. "You have to let it out."

"No, I don't wish to."

Finally, he reached up and grasped her hands in his own. "I've known you a long time, Eliana. You've always cared for others, probably more than was healthy for you. I remember once, when we were younger, we found an injured saber-kitten in the trees behind your house. Do you remember that?"

A tiny smile lifted the corners of her lips. "I do."

"Do you remember wanting to heal it, and then take it from door-to-door to find its owner?"

"Yes…" She trailed off, knowing where this story ended.

"And then, do you remember how devastated you were when your mother couldn't heal it, and it died on your kitchen table?"

She glanced upwards and blinked rapidly, trying to hold back her tears. "Yes, I remember."

Cytheas fell silent, gently stroking his fingers along the back of her hand. "I remember how much you cried for that little kitten. All you wanted to do was save it, to take away its pain. But you couldn't do anything for it, and you can't do anything for the soldiers who've already died. In truth, all that you _can_ do is grieve for them, for the loss of our people.

"But you have to _let_ yourself do that, Eli. You can't hold it all in. It's not who you are. Your ability to empathize with any living being is one of your most beautiful qualities."

A tear finally slid down her cheek, and once the first one was free, it was impossible to hold back the rest. It was like a floodgate opened, and before Eliana knew it, she was sobbing so hard that her entire body was shaking.

Since her eyes were closed, she didn't see Cytheas rise from the ground and sit beside her—though she felt the cot bow from his weight. His warmth surrounded her, and she leaned into his embrace.

Through her sobs, she whimpered, "So...many...deaths."

"I know," he murmured, stroking her hair.

"And for...what? Why did they have to die?"

"There's no right or wrong answer to that question, Eliana. I wish that there was."

She tucked her face into his chest and closed her eyes, lost to her grief. As a result, she didn't see the flap of her tent open, or Illidan stepping inside. Cytheas tensed around her ever-so-briefly, and when he straightened, Eliana wiped her face before leaning back, thinking he was trying to pull away from her.

"Illidan. What can we do for you?" Cytheas asked in a clipped tone.

At that, Eliana whirled around, spotting Illidan on the other side of the tent. Before she had a chance to greet him, or apologize for her disheveled appearance, Illidan scowled and replied, "I've news from Lord Ravencrest."

"Oh? Last I spoke to him, nothing had changed."

"Last you spoke to him? You've been here, what, the past half hour? I just left his tent."

"Very well," Cytheas conceded from between clenched teeth. "What did he say?"

"The scouting parties have returned. Apparently, the demons have reached farther on the continent than we anticipated. He wants to reform ranks at Black Rook. We—meaning Eliana and I—are to return to Suramar to touch base with both the Hold and the Temple. We leave in a few minutes."

"And what am I to do?"

Illidan shrugged. "I don't know, he didn't say. I assume you'll have to get your own orders from him."

Muttering under his breath, Cytheas released Eliana and rose to his feet. "I suppose I'll go and speak with him, then. I take it we're all leaving soon, from the sounds of things."

Eliana nodded, standing as well. "We'll find you later before we leave."

Cytheas nodded in response and made his way out of the tent. Once the flap fell, Illidan faced Eliana again, holding her gaze with a level of intensity she'd yet to experience. By this point, she'd thought that she'd seen more sides to Illidan than before, and yet, he was still surprising her.

"Are you all right with riding back to Suramar with me?" he asked, his voice low.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just—never mind. Where is your Nightsaber? Did it survive the battle?"

"Kal'Shalla is her name—and yes, she survived. She's over with the other sabers."

"I hadn't realized you'd named her," he murmured.

"It's a new development. I named her while we were at my fath—" She paused and cleared her throat. "At my house."

Sorrow and understanding passed over Illidan's face, and he slowly nodded at her statement. "We'll have to ride swiftly. I have to speak with Jarod before returning to Black Rook and informing Lord Ravencrest of what the state the city is in."

"I understand." Eliana turned and started gathering up her blankets, folding them neatly before setting them aside.

Illidan watched her for a few moments before he joined in, and between the both of them, just like before, the tent was packed up in no time. They stacked its components neatly in place of where it had stood, and then made their way over to the herd of sabercats on the edge of the encampment.

After singling out Kal'Shalla—who was napping under the low-hanging fronds of a tree—Illidan started securing their packs to her saddle. Without looking back, he said, "Go say your goodbyes. It is likely that Cytheas will be returning straight to Black Rook."

Eliana's mouth formed a small, surprised "o". She'd thought he'd have time to return to Suramar with them, but she supposed Illidan _had_ said it was only the two of them who would be going back to the city. Cytheas was a soldier in Lord Ravencrest's ranks. It stood to reason that he'd return to their base of operations with the rest of the troops.

Sensing Illidan's ire, she reached out and touched his forearm. He stilled and hesitated for a moment, before looking over at her with shuttered eyes. Softly, she said, "Thank you, Illidan. It means quite a bit to me that you're understanding about Cytheas. I wish I could say exactly how much, but it is more than I can express with any semblance of eloquence."

His expression lightened when she said that, and he nodded at her. "Go, I'll be waiting here when you're ready."

With one last grateful smile, she headed back through the throng of sabercats and made her way towards Lord Ravencrest's tent. Many of the soldiers were already preparing to pack up and leave, and the hustle and bustle of the camp escalated to familiar levels. Oddly enough, it was comforting, reassuring even. Though many of their brothers had perished, the soldiers were still ready to fight, to ensure their people would survive this.

It was a strange thing to find relief in, but Eliana felt it nonetheless.

Finally, she reached the commander's tent. The soldier standing guard recognized her from afar, and held the flap open for her to enter. Once she stepped inside the warm, dimly lit space, she paused by the entrance.

Cytheas and Lord Ravencrest were conversing behind the commander's massive strategy table, and once they reached a lull in the conversation, she politely cleared her throat to announce her presence. They both turned, and Cytheas bowed respectfully to Lord Ravencrest before coming around the table.

"Are you leaving now?" he questioned, when he stood beside her.

"Yes, I wanted to come and say goodbye before we go. Just in case I...in case it's some time before we see each other again."

Though she spoke the truth, as much as it was the grim reality of things, she hoped that it wouldn't be nearly that long until she saw him safe and standing beside her once more. Despite the rockiness of their friendship in weeks past, considering the fact that her father may be dead, Cytheas was all she had left in terms of family.

Lord Ravencrest must've sensed their need for privacy. In an uncharacteristically thoughtful moment, he stepped forward and announced, "I'm going to address the troops and inform them of our plan, Cytheas. I'll meet you at the sabers in a few minutes."

When Cytheas bowed his head in acknowledgment of his commanding officer, Lord Ravencrest turned to Eliana. "Priestess. I was doubtful of your presence when you first arrived, but even I cannot deny that seeing you amongst my soldiers gave them hope in a situation where there may have been none otherwise. I thank you for your contribution."

Surprised, Eliana raised her eyebrows ever-so-slightly before recovering and schooling her expression into something more neutral. "There is no need to thank me, my lord. I was happy to help in any way that I could."

He inclined his head in the slightest of nods—the most respectful gesture a man like Lord Ravencrest would likely offer—before brushing past her and leaving the tent.

Once they were alone, the corner of Cytheas' mouth quirked upwards in amusement. "I never thought I'd see the day where Lord Ravencrest would actually thank someone for helping, let alone _almost_ bowing to them in the same minute."

Embarrassed, Eliana shifted in place. "I'm sure it wasn't as big of a deal as you're making it out to be."

"I've been under the commander for a long time, Eliana. That's not something you see every day. You should feel proud that you're representing the Temple well—well enough to make a male like Lord Ravencrest acknowledge it."

She hesitated for a moment, before allowing a tentative smile to grace her face. "I suppose that _is_ a small accomplishment."

"Hardly small," Cytheas noted with a reassuring smile, before falling silent.

They stood there for a few seconds, gazing into each other's eyes. The way Cytheas' gaze flitted across her features felt like he was trying to memorize everything about her; her face, her smile, the way she stood. In turn, she was doing much the same. Her eyes traveled down from the rich, streaming navy strands of his hair, to his assured, wide stance. He was the very epitome of a strong male, one who would be there by her side at every turn, at any sign of danger.

She only wished she could see him the way he saw her.

But, they both knew now, more than ever, that that would never come to be. Despite that knowledge, Eliana still found herself yearning to stay by his side. Standing next to him, she knew for certain that he was still breathing, still very much alive. Without him nearby, she was left to worry about him, to wonder whether he was still walking on Azeroth. It was a fear that she hoped would never be realized, and briefly, she closed her eyes to compose her rampant emotions.

They didn't know whether her father was dead or alive yet, and she refused to think of Cytheas in the same manner. In this very moment in time, he was standing in front of her, whole and well, and she'd try her very best to remember that while they were apart.

He stepped forward, opening his arms for her, and she immediately fell into his embrace. With his arms wrapped around her, and she was encompassed by his warmth, she felt safe. He rested his head on hers and they stood there, simply holding each other.

Eventually, he murmured, "Be safe, Eliana."

"That should be my line."

His chuckle tickled the hairs on the top of her head. "We both know you need it more than I."

She reached up and pinched him in the side, and when he squirmed, she giggled. _This_ is how they were meant to be, the way they were before the day of the festival. They were each other's closest companions, like siblings who fought at every turn, and yet, would do anything for one another.

After she pulled back from his hold, he rested his hands on her shoulders. Briefly, he brushed his knuckles along her cheekbone. "I mean it, though. Stay safe. If not for me, for your father—when we find him."

"I promise, as long as you promise to do the same."

A smile lit up his face. "I promise," he whispered. He turned her in his hands and pushed her lightly towards the door. "I'm sure Illidan is waiting _ever_ -so-patiently for you. Best not keep him waiting too long."

"Illidan? Patient?" Eliana jested, glancing over her shoulder at Cytheas.

To her surprise, he didn't look angry or hurt that they were talking about the male who held her affections—the male who was not _him_. Perhaps he truly had accepted things and only wished for her to be happy, as he'd said in the Temple.

As she backpedaled away from him, he raised his hand. "Goodbye, Eliana. I _will_ see you again."

Tears blurred her vision, and quickly, she raised her hand as well. "Goodbye, Cytheas!" she called out, before turning around and hurrying back towards the sabers.

Exactly as Cytheas had predicted, Illidan was already seated atop Kal'Shalla, gripping the reins tightly in his hands as he scanned the camp for any sign of Eliana. When she finally ran into view, he steered her Nightsaber in her direction and met her halfway.

"Finally," he grumbled.

"Sorry, I guess we had a lot more to say to one another than I expected," she explained, breathless.

Illidan reached down and offered her his hand, scooting back slightly so that she would fit in front of him. She glanced up at him in surprise and he said, "She's _your_ Nightsaber."

She smiled in appreciation and placed her hand in his, pulling herself up and into the saddle with his help. Once she was settled and the reins were in her own hands, Illidan pointed towards the opposite end of the camp. They ambled through the few tents that hadn't been taken down yet, and within a few minutes, they were back on the trail that wound through the forest.

With his hands gripping her tightly, they gained ground faster than she'd expected to. When the encampment was well and truly behind them, she glanced over her shoulder at Illidan. He'd been silent thus far, and she was curious as to why he hadn't said anything.

Immediately after turning around, her eyes met his. He was staring down at her with a pensive expression, eyes tight with an unreadable emotion.

Surprised, she started. "What?"

"You are by far the most confusing female I've ever known."

"That's the second time you've told me that, Illidan. I might start to think you mean it in a derogatory sense," she joked, facing forward again.

He scoffed in response. "Hardly. I mean it exactly the way I said it. It's neither good nor bad, simply...confusing."

"How is it that I'm confusing, exactly?"

"One minute, you and Cytheas are fighting. The next, you're kissing _me_. Then even after that, you and Cytheas are closer than ever. I suppose I feel like…" He trailed off, gripping her hips even tighter in his hands. "I suppose I feel like I'm simply the male you come to when the two of you aren't getting along."

At that, Eliana fell silent. Often times, that was how _she_ felt. When the two of them were alone, it was as if Illidan saw nothing else, saw _no one_ else. But she knew that wasn't true. As soon as Tyrande walked into the room, or if his thoughts happened to drift towards the other priestess, it was as if she no longer existed.

Quietly, she muttered, "I know how you feel."

Illidan sighed, and his breath whooshed past her ear, fluttering her hair in its wake. "I know I have no right to complain, or...or feel jealous. You are not mine, and not a piece of property that I can claim, but...I cannot help what I feel."

"Neither can I." She shifted in the saddle, inadvertently brushing up against Illidan. He cleared his throat, and she muttered an apology before ending with, "I suppose we're much in the same boat."

He didn't respond, and hesitantly, Eliana placed her hand on top of his. "Illidan, I want you to know that...despite the fact that I am not yours, my heart _is_."

A beat passed, before he quietly asked, "What do you mean?"

She let out a tiny sigh, trying to compose her thoughts. Facing forward, she explained, "I know that you love Tyrande, and have for many years. We've spoken of this, and I know where you stand on that. Even though I know that to be true, it doesn't change the way I—the way I feel about you. I care about you, quite a bit, and...you've no reason to be jealous of Cytheas and I."

"No reason? I find that hard to believe," he murmured in her ear.

"He and I are simply good friends—close friends. He is like a brother to me, and if my father is dead, then he is all I have left. But I don't care about him the way I care about _you_."

Again, he was silent. When a minute or two passed and he still hadn't responded, she shifted in the saddle again. Silently chiding herself, she said, "I'm sorry, I spoke too boldly. I shouldn't have—"

"No, no." He flexed his fingers on her hips again, causing a slight shiver to race up her spine. "I was simply thinking about what you'd said."

Panicked that he would somehow take her admittance the wrong way, she hurriedly added, "I mean, I know that you know that I care about you. I've told you as much. But what I was trying to say was that Cytheas is not someone you need to worry about.

"When I say I've cared about you for a long time, I mean a _long time_. The first time I met you, at my coming of age party, we didn't talk much. It's silly, but I think even from that day, I knew I was fond of you. As the years passed, the feeling grew, and with each passing time we saw each other, it increased even more.

"What I'm basically saying is that it's been you for as long as I can remember, Illidan. Nothing will change that. I—"

Unexpectedly, he reached around and cupped her face, turning her towards him so that he could capture her lips with his own. Since she hadn't expected him to do that, she pulled back on Kal'Shalla's reins harder than she should've, and the Nightsaber skidded to a halt. As a result, she fell back into Illidan's chest, and his arms came up to cradle her.

It was strange, being in two different men's arms in one day. It also put into perspective exactly how _different_ they both made her feel. Being in Cytheas' arms made her feel warm, and safe, as if nothing in the world could harm her because he would always be there to protect her.

While there were some similarities in Illidan's embrace, the difference was that his touch made her skin feel like it was on fire. Whereas Cytheas gave her a comforting sort of warmth, like coming home to a fire burning in the hearth, the heat of Illidan's body against hers made her feel like she was going to burst out of her body.

Every time he held her, she didn't know which way was up or down. All she could concentrate on was the feel of his skin against hers. All she could smell was the familiar and unique scent that was wholly Illidan: the tinge of metal, the trace of pine trees, and an inherently masculine spice.

As his tongue swept along hers, she was unable to hold back her reaction and moaned into his mouth. The sudden onslaught of emotion left her feeling overwhelmed, and she reached up, placing her right hand against his bicep.

Just as quickly as he started the kiss, he pulled back, leaving her disoriented.

"Illidan, what—"

Sweeping her hair back from her face, he placed his forehead against hers. In a hushed voice, he explained, "Never in my life have I felt like anything was truly mine. Malfurion and I, as twins, have always shared everything—even Tyrande."

Not knowing what to say, Eliana stayed quiet. Illidan took the opportunity to continue. "I know I've just finished saying that I cannot own you, but...hearing you claim that your heart has always been mine, it—it made me feel as I've rarely felt before: _wanted_."

"You _are_ wanted," she whispered. "I want you more than I could possibly put into words."

"And that is something that means more to me than _I_ can put into words. I cannot promise you anything," Illidan murmured. "But I want you to know that giving your heart to me makes me feel something _no one_ has ever made me feel before."

His words made Eliana's heart feel like it was soaring through the night sky, free like the birds she'd so envied as a child. It floated up above the stars, above all the death and destruction that littered their world in that very moment. It was as if nothing in the world could bring her back down, except for the very male who had his arms around her right now.

A smile slowly spread across Eliana's face. When Illidan saw her expression change, he mirrored it with a smile of his own, lightly tracing the line of her jaw. After a few seconds had passed, he flicked the end of her chin before reaching around her and taking the reins in his own hands. As they lurched forward on the path, continuing towards Suramar, he pulled her back to rest against his chest.

"Come. Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is rather unconventional. Two chapters in one week?! Think of how life could be! No, in all honesty, I'm not sure how this chapter came to be so quickly. I kind of had the initial idea for it floating around in my mind, and when I opened the source material to reference stuff earlier today, I realized that the time gap between book one and book two in the trilogy was huge. Thus, this filler chapter was born. I know it isn't horribly exciting, but I hope it kind of helps bridge the gap between the books and set things up for the rest of the war. Those of you who've read the trilogy will know what I speak of.
> 
> Also, since I wrote this chapter much faster than I usually write any chapter (literally started writing it around noon today, and it is now 9:15PM), and that it's sole purpose is to be a filler, I've decided to leave it in its raw form. While I personally have done two rounds of revisions, this chapter is not read by a beta. As a result, I apologize profusely for any glaring errors. They're 100% me. If you guys notice any, feel free to point them out and I'll fix them.
> 
> Last but not least, thanks to everyone who commented, and to everyone who is still reading this story. Means a whole lot to me, so thank you!
> 
> See you guys next time! We're officially into The Demon Soul content now!


	16. Chapter 16

Three weeks passed by without incident, and Eliana began to wonder if the worst of the demon threat had passed. There had been no massive, recent influx of demons, but that didn't mean the ones who had been bested had not left their mark. Much of Kalimdor was decimated, a shell of the majestic, beautiful continent it had once been not so long ago. Lord Ravencrest's scouts had brought back reports that devastated them all: the demons had reached farther than they'd all thought.

The center of Kalimdor was nothing more than a ravaged plain. Settlements in the vicinity of Zin-Azshari were no longer inhabitable, or salvageable; there was little to no trace of them having ever been there at all. The farther one rode from the capital, the visible damage abated, but those who weren't near the epicenter had still been affected. Thousands of Night Elves had perished. Civilians and soldiers alike, their people had suffered a harsh and cruel fate.

None felt the loss more than the Sisters of Elune.

After the initial onslaught of the demons, the priestesses struggled to recover. Like Lord Ravencrest's forces and what little remained of the Moon Guard, they tried to replenish their numbers and morale, but it was proving to be difficult.

Priestesses of Elune normally came to the Temple in their youth as initiates. When so many of their people had perished, many parents were reluctant to let their younglings leave their sight. Then, it took time to train an initiate, in both the matters of their faith and in the art of battle. There was only so much they could do in such a short amount of time.

And time did not wait. Though the demons came in lesser amounts, they still _came_. The urgency for action and progress was present in every waking moment of every day that passed.

Every single day, the combined forces of their army fought to drive back the demons as much as possible. That was precisely part of the problem. Their enemies' numbers were so great, and they came so regularly, that it was impossible to be everywhere at once.

Eliana was experiencing that firsthand right at this very moment.

The Temple of Elune had been designated as a sort of triage for the war effort. Those that were injured were brought to the Temple for healing and assistance. Once they were well again, they left. If they were soldiers, they returned to Black Rook Hold. If they were civilians, they returned to their designated homes within the new, safer borders of the city. With the demons' unrelenting advancement, the sisters were occupied more often than not. Rarely did they get a full day's rest, and there were some days where they didn't sleep at all.

Eliana finished uttering a prayer of healing before wrapping a soldier's calf with linen bandages; it had been shot clean through with an arrow. He thanked her with reverence in his eyes, and she laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder before rising to her feet.

The emotion and gratitude that she saw in each soldier's eyes when she healed them, both inspired her and left her feeling emptier than before. Of course she was happy that she was of use, and that she was helping save lives. It was better than the utter devastation she'd felt on the battlefield all those weeks ago.

But at the same time, with each soldier she aided, she found herself wondering whether this would ever end. She shouldn't _need_ to heal her brethren. Or at least, not life-threatening wounds. She should be spending her days in the Temple's courtyard, coordinating festivals, offering prayers of reassurance to whomever asked. Not prayers that desperately tried to prevent the cold feeling of a soul passing through to the other side.

Once she walked away from the soldier, she swept her forearm across her brow, wiping the sweat that had beaded on her skin. The moon was at its apex in the sky, but the level of exhaustion she felt was more akin to how she would feel at sunrise.

She came to a stop at the edge of the Temple's veranda and leaned against one of the massive columns. With a sigh, she gazed up at the moon, deep in thought.

Much had changed in the past few weeks. Illidan had been officially accepted into Lord Ravencrest's ranks, but not as a mere soldier. His more accurate, official title would be along the lines of the commander's personal sorcerer. With the queen and her guard holed up tight within the palace, he'd taken to commanding what remained of the Moon Guard—a position he filled quite naturally, in Eliana's opinion.

Tyrande was wary of his quick ascension to a position of power, but war called for hasty and necessary moves that may not have otherwise occurred. Malfurion, too, was hesitant, but it was clear to all of them how much the promotion made Illidan happy. There was a new purpose in his stride, a new goal to keep him driven.

Both she and Tyrande had been elevated to fully-fledged priestesses, due to the demand and urgency that a war brought with it. When they weren't needed for healing, they spent much of their time trying to train what few initiates remained.

Eliana's eyes had just slid shut from exhaustion, when a familiar voice called out from behind her.

"Are you falling asleep on watch, Sister?"

With her eyes still closed, a fond smile spread across Eliana's face. "Hardly, Tyrande. I'm simply resting my eyes."

Tyrande's musical laughter filled the air and once she'd sobered, she noted, "It _has_ been a long day already."

Eliana hummed in agreement, and finally opened her eyes. When she looked over at Tyrande, she noted how the other priestess' hair was unruly and frazzled as if she'd been running her hands through it constantly. Concerned, she cinched her eyebrows. "Are you all right?"

Though normally positive and upbeat, Tyrande let out a sigh that sounded drained. "I am fine, if you are asking how I feel physically. I am tired, but aren't we all?"

"Then what is bothering you?"

Tyrande stared out across the city to the forest beyond. "It is difficult for me to be here, within the city's relatively safe walls. It makes me feel...privileged, sheltered. I know that is not the truth, yet it is how I feel."

Eliana followed her friend's gaze. "I understand. You'd rather be out there, fighting to save our people, to keep them safe."

"Exactly." Tyrande faced Eliana with a focused expression. "You were out there during the first few battles. How was it?"

Eliana pushed off of the column, crossing her arms as she turned to face the view head-on. "It was...terrifying. Death surrounded me, all the time, and there was nothing I could really do about it. The most that I _could_ do was try to ease the soldiers' pain and suffering as much as possible, so they could pass on in peace. The demons are beyond anything we could've imagined. I was lucky to make it back alive."

"But did you feel like you were helping the cause? Did it feel _right_ to be out there, beside the soldiers?"

Unsure of how to answer Tyrande's loaded question, Eliana remained silent for a few seconds. Finally, she replied, "It did, in some ways. While you're on the front lines, you feel more of a sense of purpose. There is an urgent call to do as much as you can—a call that you cannot ignore. But there are also ways in which I felt _more_ useless than I cared to admit to anyone.

"We are trained to fight in the name of Elune, yes, but it is on a different scale than the soldiers. Often times, I found myself asking how much good I was actually capable of doing out there. Would I better used here, at the Temple? Or perhaps I was simply in the way. Things like that."

At first, Tyrande didn't reply. A minute later, in a quiet voice, she said, "Sometimes I find myself wondering what our true purpose is. I know that we are here in the Temple because this is where Elune needs us to be. We are still helping, because we tend to the soldiers who are brought to us. We bring them relief, both physical and spiritual. However…" She trailed off as she turned around, away from the view of the city. "For my own selfish reasons, I wish that I could be out there, doing everything I can to protect those that we love."

Understanding spread through Eliana, and she noted, "You want to be fighting alongside Malfurion and Illidan."

Tyrande shook her head before clarifying, "I want to _protect_ them. If that means fighting by their sides, then yes."

"You might get your wish sooner than you expect, Tyrande," Eliana muttered under her breath.

Off in the distance, the ramparts of Black Rook Hold could barely be seen above the canopy of trees. Things had been so busy at the Temple, and she suspected at the Hold as well, that they'd had little opportunity to speak to the Stormrage brothers. They hadn't seen them since a couple of days after they'd returned to Suramar. Cytheas, too, had been occupied since their return. She'd only seen him once, and it was a fleeting glance with little opportunity for conversation.

Despite having been out of contact with them, it was clear to everyone in the capital that _something_ would be happening soon. A pall had settled over the city, and especially the Temple. Just this morning, High Priestess Dehjana had instructed all of the instated priestesses to prepare their battle armor.

If that hadn't been enough evidence of the coming action, there was this...feeling in the air. It was nearly tangible—the pressure and mounting tension—and Eliana wondered when the messenger would arrive from Lord Ravencrest, instructing them all to ride out.

As if on cue, when Eliana reached out to lay a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder, a fellow priestess pushed through the colossal, gilded doors that marked the Temple's entrance. At the echoing sound, both females looked up and watched their sister approach.

When she stood just in front of them, she said, "Forgive me for interrupting, sisters, but the High Priestess wishes to speak to you, Tyrande."

Tyrande assured her that she'd be in momentarily, and once the other female walked away, she faced Eliana. "Do you think this is it?"

"I don't see what else it could be."

A thoughtful expression crossed Tyrande's face. "I suppose we'll find out," she muttered, lifting her skirts and heading back into the temple.

Eliana watched her friend go, before looking over her shoulder at the ebony fortress beyond the city. An uncomfortable tightness in her chest radiated outwards, taking over her entire body until even her toes were curled in anxiety. It was followed by an ominous sense of dread that quickly swept over her, and under her breath, she said, "Yes, I suppose we will."

* * *

 Two hours later, per High Priestess Dehjana's instruction, the Priestesses of Elune rode out for Black Rook Hold.

As they proceeded towards the city gates, the refugees of the war stopped to watch them pass by. Clad from head to toe in burnished silver armor, with cloaks that shimmered as if the moon's rays had been woven into them, they must've been a sight to behold on their fierce saber cats.

Deep within Eliana's own heart, however, she held no level of awe for their circumstance. Though they were splendid in their grace and display of power, their reason for such was nowhere near as glorious. It had not been the first day the demons arrived, and it still was not now.

But war was never glorious to those who only wished for peace.

Because of the sheer size of their procession, it took them a little bit longer than usual to reach Black Rook Hold. When they had barely come around the bend in the path, High Priestess Dehjana called for them to halt. Eliana pulled back on Kal'Shalla's reins, and once the dust had settled, she peered around the treeline, curious as to the reason for their abrupt stop.

Lord Ravencrest had assembled his troops out in the plains before the hold. Standing in even, organized rows, the entirety of their force was equal parts intimidating and sobering. She stared at the soldiers with a sort of ambivalence. If they were going to try and defeat the demons at their base, then they had good numbers. With good numbers, however, came numerous deaths, and it was that knowledge that had Eliana feeling more disheartened than before.

At her side, Tyrande scanned the ranks intently, presumably looking for a familiar face. The High Priestess urged her group forward, and once they were near enough to the main force, she instructed them to fall in. After commanding them to stay where they were, she rode off to meet Lord Ravencrest for instructions.

A few minutes later, an irritated sigh left Tyrande and Eliana asked, "Do you not see them?"

"There are so many soldiers out here, it's nearly impossible for me to pick anyone out from their ranks."

"It's a good thing for you that I've been watching for you two, then," a male voice called out to them from their right.

Both priestesses glanced over in the direction of the voice, and when Eliana saw Cytheas' familiar form, she exclaimed in excitement before quickly dismounting and rushing over to him. He chuckled and was barely out of his saddle before she collided with him, hugging him tightly in relief.

"I'm so glad you're all right, Cyth," she murmured into his chest.

"I feel the same way," he replied, pulling back from her embrace. After fondly tapping her nose, he tilted his head towards the back of the ranks. "Come with me. I'll bring you to the Stormrage brothers."

"Thank you, Cytheas," Tyrande said by way of a greeting as she dismounted her saber.

He led them towards the Hold's gates, walking alongside Il'hadras. Eliana ran her fingers through the sabercat's fur, thankful that Cytheas' mount had also survived thus far. When they were but a few steps away, Malfurion's trademark, forest green mane came into view. Tyrande sucked in a breath before sprinting ahead of them.

The two of them continued walking towards the gates, and Eliana smiled when Tyrande draped her arms around Malfurion's neck. Her smile widened in amusement when she saw Malfurion's cheeks darken in embarrassment, before he wound his arms around his friend's waist in return.

A moment later, Illidan appeared from behind the gates. When he spoke to Tyrande, she pulled back from Malfurion, equally as flushed. Quickly, they embraced, and Cytheas and Eliana approached the trio.

"Look who I've brought," Cytheas greeted, nudging Eliana forward. She glanced back at him in annoyance; he was acting like the big brother who thrived on embarrassing their younger sister.

When she faced forward again, she barely had a moment to compose herself before Illidan enveloped her in a tight embrace. Caught off guard, she gasped in surprise, and ended up breathing in his familiar, comforting scent.

With tears of relief in pooling in her eyes, she wrapped her arms around his broad back as much as she could reach. "Illidan," she sighed in greeting.

He didn't say anything in response, simply tightened his arms ever-so-slightly before letting her go. "I'm glad to see that you are well, Eliana—" His expression clouded over with concern as he traced his thumb under her puffy, tired eyes. "—though you look exhausted."

"I am," she admitted. "Things have been hectic at the Temple, though I assume you've all been busy here, too."

"Quite," Cytheas piped up. "We've been assembling the troops as they've come in from other settlements."

Beside Malfurion, Tyrande said, "The High Priestess hopes that our numbers will help as well. I'll be there with you on the front lines this time."

"You what?" both Malfurion and Illidan exclaimed, looking sharply over at her.

Eliana rolled her eyes at their response. It was like Illidan and Cytheas complaining about her wanting to be on the front lines with _them_ all over again. Next to her, Cytheas laughed under his breath. He must've guessed at her line of thought.

Under their unexpected, combined ire, Tyrande shifted in place. "I've been instructed to command a small troop of novices. We're not only here to heal, we're here to help fight."

The brothers opened their mouths to lecture her—or at least, Eliana assumed that's what they were going to do—but the sounding of a horn interrupted them. It was followed shortly after by another horn, and then another. The loud, blaring signal rippled down through the ranks until the unit right beside the group sounded their horn, too.

Eliana cringed at the ear-shattering volume, and Cytheas gestured to someone behind her before explaining, "We're moving out soon. You two might want to return to your group."

Tyrande nodded. "I just wanted to come and wish you luck and safety—to all three of you, of course."

Malfurion and Illidan responded similarly, before embracing her. Eliana and Cytheas did the same, and before he pulled away, he whispered into her ear, "Be safe, Eli. I want to see you alive at the end of all of this."

"I could say the same to you," she murmured in response.

With a smile that was tinged with sadness, he ruffled her hair affectionately before disappearing into the ranks. She took a deep breath, trying not to imagine the worst scenarios that potentially awaited all of them. All she could do was have faith, and believe that Elune would bring them all together again, alive and well, when all of this was over.

Illidan touched her shoulder and she faced him with glassy eyes. He offered a wry smile, before brushing an errant tear that had slid down her cheek away. "Aren't you supposed to be inspiring _us_ to stay safe?"

"Yes, I am. I gave into my fear and worry that we all might not make it. I'm so sorry, Illi—"

He interrupted her by pulling her into his arms again. "Don't apologize for _that_. It would be stupid and a mistake to not feel afraid, but if you stay focused on winning every individual battle, you'll survive—just like you did the first time. Don't think about the grand scheme of things. That's how you'll stay alive, and that's how we'll see one another after this is all over."

She sniffled, and reached up to place her hand on his upper arm. "Thank you, Illidan. You'll stay safe, too, won't you?"

After he pulled back, his smile morphed into something more genuine. Teasingly, he replied, "Of course. I live for this."

His attempt at humor elicited a quiet laugh from her. Behind Illidan, Malfurion shook his head in obvious reproach. "We should go, brother."

With one last loaded, imploring look, Illidan stepped away from her, and the Stormrage brothers were gone. Tyrande slipped her hand into Eliana's. When she glanced over at her friend, Tyrande asked, "Are you ready, Eliana?"

With newfound determination in her gaze, she nodded. "I'm ready. These demons have made a grave mistake. Our people will not go down without a fight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'm sorry that after such a long wait, all I have for you guys is a filler chapter. Originally, I wanted this to be far longer but what I had written ended up sitting for over a month because of my summer classes. In the end, after quite a few re-reads, I decided to cut the last page out and post this as a filler. It was easier to separate the next section of (more) action into a new chapter and keep this lull in the battles on its own.
> 
> Thank you so much to all of my new favorites/followers! I know it's been some time since I've updated, but it does keep me motivated when I see people are still finding this story. 
> 
> As always, thanks to Arenoptara for beta-reading on such short notice <3 Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up sooner, but with the way this summer has been going so far, I don't want to make any promises :x


	17. Chapter 17

A collective sense of valor and hope drove the Night Elven forces towards Zin-Azshari. The entire force rode hard and they made good time, though the capital was some ways ahead still. It wasn't until two hours into the daylight that Lord Ravencrest called for them to halt and set up camp.

Eliana still felt a lingering exhaustion that she suspected wouldn't dissipate until after this was all over. A full day's rest sounded magnificent, and relief washed over her when she heard Lord Ravencrest instructing that guards be posted along the perimeter of the camp. It was never a guarantee that they wouldn't be ambushed, but she felt considerably safer nestled within their vast ranks.

The Priestesses of Elune were designated a section of the camp to themselves. Rather than setting up individual tents like most of the soldiers did, to save room and time, the priestesses would all be staying in one large tent together with the exception of the High Priestess herself.

Once their tent was erected, many of the priestesses retired for the daylight hours, getting as much rest as possible while they could. Sleep evaded Eliana, however, and she tossed and turned for much of the day. True, deep sleep never quite settled in, and she floated through the limbo of restlessness—not quite conscious but not truly asleep, either.

Eventually, when the sun began to dip below the mountains, she packed up her sleeping bag and quietly exited the tent. By Elune's good grace, the area they'd set up camp had remained unaffected by the scourge of the demons. The forest around her was tranquil, alive, and she felt a calming sort of comfort. Listlessly, she wandered to the edge of the encampment and sat down on a supply crate to watch the setting sun.

Though she preferred the pale, cool light of the moon, she had to admit that the fiery blaze of the sun was beautiful in its own way. Its golden rays filtered through the crags of the mountains and the towering pine trees, and covered the camp in a muted cloak of light. Unlike the moon, these rays were warm, and enveloped her in their balmy embrace.

Her eyes slid shut, at ease in nature's embrace, but when she heard the rustle of branches being disturbed behind her, they shot back open. In reflex, her hand flew down to the handle of her dagger. As she bolted to her feet and faced the sound, she let out a tense sigh when she saw that it was Malfurion who had come out of the forest.

In a mollifying gesture, he held out his hands when he saw her offensive posture. "I apologize if I startled you, Eliana."

"What are you doing coming out of the forest like that, Mal?" she questioned, straightening and falling back into a more relaxed stance.

"I...work better with less chance of being disturbed."

Confused, Eliana tilted her head to the side. "Doing what exactly?"

"It's hard to explain," Malfurion said, shifting his weight to his other foot. "It's easier for me to connect with nature when I'm in the midst of it, but it's also better if the environment is quiet and devoid of...distractions. Soldiers and the commotion of camp during the night hours is..."

"Quite the distraction," she finished for him. Recognition lit up her eyes then, and she asked, "Were you doing something similar to when you came to the Temple? And you needed the Chamber of the Moon?"

He smiled. "Precisely. I—"

Another loud commotion from the trees interrupted him. The sound of someone—or something—crashing through the branches got progressively louder, until Jarod Shadowsong burst out of the pine bristles, looking harried and a bit angry.

"Master Stormrage, you can't just—" He started to reprimand Malfurion, until he saw Eliana standing beside the druid. "My apologies, Priestess Starhelm, I didn't see you there."

She offered a smile, though the corners of her lips twitched in amusement. "Just Eliana is fine, Jarod. I'm nowhere near important enough to be addressed so formally."

Not only that, but hearing her surname reminded her of her father, and the fact that they still hadn't located him. A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered that they may never find him—or at least, not alive—but she tried to quash that thought as quickly as it had manifested.

Jarod nodded in response to her statement, and then looked at Malfurion. "Master Stormrage, Lord Ravencrest assigned me to guard you, but I cannot do that if you continue to slip away and run into the forest alone."

"Continue to?" Eliana teased Malfurion, and a short sigh escaped him as he glanced over at her.

"I am not intentionally trying to lose you, Jarod, but I cannot do what I need to do—what Lord Ravencrest has  _asked_ me to do—if I am surrounded by soldiers. I am sorry, but, that includes you."

"Yes, but—"

Malfurion held up his hand, interrupting the young soldier once more. "If I promise not to leave without informing you first, can we please drop this?"

With a disgruntled expression, Jarod offered a reluctant nod before saying, "Very well. If you intend to remain with Priestess—with Eliana, I will return to my tent for the day."

"Please, Jarod, get some rest," Malfurion prompted in agreement, before taking a step closer to Eliana.

Though he still looked a bit irked, the slightest hint of gratitude flitted across Jarod's face before he stomped off back towards the inner part of camp. Eliana shook her head as she watched him go.

"He's just doing his job, Malfurion. I'm sure he doesn't intend to be… well, Jarod. He's simply eager to do his job well."

"I know that," Malfurion noted, "but I wasn't lying when I said I can't work with him hovering over me."

"I suppose that's true."

A few seconds of silence passed, before Malfurion faced Eliana. "What are  _you_ doing up so early?"

With a sigh, Eliana glanced at the setting sun. It was now below the mountain range, and the only remaining evidence of its time was the ochre slice of sky just above the peaks. The rest of the sky was rapidly darkening to a rich, deep navy.

"I couldn't sleep," she explained with a shrug.

He glanced down at his feet before a slight smile graced the corner of his lips. "I understand how that goes."

They both shuffled in place awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Though they'd always gotten along, they'd never really been alone before and didn't know each other well enough to hold up an extended conversation.

Eventually, he faced her again with an open expression. "Walk with me?"

Eliana's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh! Er...I'd be delighted to."

In silence, they ambled along the edge of the camp in a circular path with no particular destination in mind. It was an amiable silence, but Eliana still felt the pressing need to say something, though she had no idea where to start. Thankfully, Malfurion saved her the trouble.

"So...Tyrande tells me that...you have feelings for my brother."

Immediately, her cheeks darkened in embarrassment. "Does she often speak about my personal, private feelings?" she asked, a bit sharper than she'd intended to.

"Oh, no, we just...it came up in a conversation...a little while ago." Chagrined, he rubbed the back of his neck as they fell back into silence again.

"It's all right, Mal. I'm not angry, I just...it isn't exactly a secret, but I don't speak about it to everyone at every opportunity. I've told Illidan how I feel, but things are...complicated."

"Yes, aren't they always? If he feels the same way, then I am happy for you," he offered with a smile.

"Well, that's why things are complicated. He—" She broke off and glanced over at Malfurion, unsure of how much she should say. She didn't know whether Tyrande, or even Illidan himself, had told Malfurion about his twin's feelings—feelings she suspected Malfurion also had for Tyrande. "He hasn't overtly admitted to having feelings for me, no, though I hope that he is at least somewhat fond of me."

"Somewhat fond?" he echoed. "I think it goes far deeper than that, Eliana."

Again, she blushed. "I hope so."

He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, and she stopped walking to face him. With a true smile on his face, he said, "I've seen the way he looks at you, and I've seen the way you look at him. I do not think you simply have to 'hope' that he feels the same way. I believe that he already  _does_."

She stared into his eyes, at a face that was so like Illidan's, and yet, not. Their features were the same, but Malfurion's expression was more open, warmer; it was the sort of face an elf that you'd trust implicitly without rhyme or reason would have. While Illidan's face was more stern, and almost always twisted into a scowl, for whatever reason, the sight of it caused her heart to flutter, whereas Malfurion's did not.

It did, however, encourage her to trust him and his words. A grateful smile spread across her face, and she reached up to squeeze his hand. "Thank you, Malfurion. It truly means a lot to me to hear that."

"You are welcome, Eliana."

By now, it was undeniably night, and the camp around them was beginning to stir. On the far end of the encampment, a group of scouts racing away on their sabercats caught her eye before she looked back at Malfurion. Finally, his gaze shifted behind her and over her shoulder. When his expression illuminated—like he was looking at the most beautiful work of art, or the most breathtaking landscape he'd ever seen—she surmised that he must've spotted Tyrande. He moved to walk past Eliana, but halted in place so suddenly that she turned as well, her brows cinched in concern.

She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, until she spotted Illidan and Tyrande a few yards away. They must've been speaking in low tones, for their heads were rather close together. When Tyrande shook her head in denial of something Illidan had asked, his expression darkened. With a pained, tight expression, he muttered something else, and then stalked off towards the opposite end of camp.

Tyrande remained where she stood, completely still with shoulders slightly drooped. A few seconds later, Broxigar approached her, and she straightened with renewed purpose. Eliana heard the dirt shift behind her, and when she turned, Malfurion was moving past her.

"I'm going to see if she's all right. I'll see you later, I'm sure?" he asked, looking back at her for confirmation as he paused in mid-stride.

"Of course. I'll go speak with Illidan and make sure he's all right, too. He seemed upset."

Malfurion nodded. "He did. I can think of no better comfort to him than your presence," he said, before waving and heading in Tyrande's direction.

"I can," Eliana muttered under her breath, suspecting that the reason Illidan was upset was the exact reason Malfurion was ever-optimistic.

Still, despite the fact that he'd likely be no great joy to speak to at the moment, she couldn't simply let him wallow in his sorrows alone. Well, more like anger, really. Besides, he'd been there for her when she was a blubbering, emotional mess after her father disappeared, so it was the least she could do in return. With a determined nod, she strode off in the direction of the soldiers' tents, assuming he'd be posted close to Lord Ravencrest as he had been before.

When she spotted the commander's ostentatious tent, she studied its surrounding tents with a keen, thoughtful eye. They all looked identical, but she knew that Illidan had a penchant for details and, though he was nowhere near as gaudy as Lord Ravencrest, he still preferred a touch of elegance to his surroundings—unlike his twin, who preferred a style of decor more down-to-Earth and unembellished.

Her eye passed over the third tent to the left of the commander's, and when she spotted the perfect, neat way the flap was pinned back against the base, and the way the supporting ropes were tied to the stakes in perfect alignment, she beelined towards that one. As she approached the tent, she caught a whiff of sandalwood and metal, and knew with utmost certainty that she'd found him.

Her hand was already reaching out to lift the flap when she remembered herself and pulled it back, clearing her throat as she adjusted her breastplate. After a few deep breaths, she called out, "Illidan? Are you in there? It's...It's me, Eliana."

Shuffling came from within the tent, and when he stepped out and nearly collided with her, she let out a gasp and quickly stepped back; she'd expected him to reply and tell her to enter, not come out and greet her himself. He straightened and glared down at her with a gruff, tight expression. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he looked just as grumpy as the first time she'd ever seen him. Though she knew she wasn't the object of his ire, she shifted uncomfortably all the same.

"I...I saw you speaking to Tyrande earlier. I just wanted to see how you were doing. You seemed upset," she said, cringing when she realized how juvenile and petty that sounded. By Elune, she did more than simply watch his every move, and yet, that's not what it had sounded like.

A grunt was his only response before he glanced over her head. Without a word, he waved her into his tent. When he disappeared through the flap, she followed him in. As she'd suspected, his tent was decorated far more than it needed to be for such a small stop on their journey to the capital. Like her first tent, it had an opulent, plush rug in the center of the space, and a bed that looked far more comfortable than a cot resting in the far corner. In addition to that, he had various crates stacked along the edge of the area, working as makeshift tables that were currently littered with papers and candles. Clearly, she'd interrupted his work.

He crossed the room quickly and sat back down on a crate that was propped in front of the messiest surface out of all of them. With a flick of his wrist, he said, "You can sit on the bed, if you want."

"Oh, uh, okay," she murmured, wondering if perhaps she should've just let him be until the morning. "If you wish for me to go, Illidan, I can—"

"You can sit."

She fiddled with her fingers for a second before squaring her shoulders and heading for the bed. On normal circumstances, considering their history by this point in time, she'd have no problem with his suggestion. However, this was the first time she'd been in such a private space of his—his kitchen didn't entirely count, in her opinion—and with his dour mood, it seemed a bit...out of place.

Illidan continued to work as she sat there, and she watched him scribble the occasional note down with a quill. After a few minutes had passed and he still hadn't said anything, she scooted farther back on the bed with a sigh, figuring she might as well get comfortable. The sound of her shuffling along his blanket prompted him to look up at her, and she grimaced.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you." She started twirling her fingers again, oddly nervous under his intense gaze.

He stared at her for a second before he tossed his quill onto the papers. "Don't apologize. I'm not being very sociable, am I?"

"It's all right," she reassured him, but he shook his head as he let out a sigh.

"Tyra's always telling me that I'm a terrible host. Perhaps she's right," he murmured.

After he mentioned Tyrande, he shook his head again before rising to his feet. Slowly, he paced around the room, seemingly lost in thought. With nothing else to do, she watched him as he wandered aimlessly. When he completed one revolution, he came to a halt in front of the bed and met her gaze.

A few seconds later, he asked, "Am I a fool, Eliana?"

His question caused her to frown, and she lowered her eyebrows. "I've never thought of you as a fool, Illidan. Why would you ask such a thing?"

"I  _feel_ like a fool," he admitted with a grunt as he rested his hands on his hips. "All these years I thought I stood a chance, and now… Now it seems as if I've waited too long."

Still a bit confused, Eliana recalled how his earlier conversation with Tyrande had seemed to go. He'd started out merrily enough, approaching her with an amiable expression on his face. As they'd spoken further, his countenance had darkened, and by the time Eliana and Malfurion had seen him walk away, he'd looked rather upset. Something they'd discussed, or something Tyrande had said, must've sparked this train of thought.

Hesitantly, she spoke. "Does this...does this have to do with Tyrande?"

It felt wrong asking him about such a personal matter, a matter that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with another female. But she'd come to his tent to comfort him, to be the person he could come to or speak to if he needed to vent, and so that was what she intended to try and do.

"Of course. What else?" he asked, frustrated. After making his way back to his makeshift stool, he fell down onto it and stared at her, morose. "I'm sorry. I know it isn't fair of me to speak of this with you, but...I can't go to my brother, and there really isn't anyone else."

When he seemed open to sharing how he felt with her, she let out a quiet sigh of relief. "Perhaps not, but before anything else, I'd like to believe we're friends. So I don't...I don't really mind. I'd rather we spoke about it than have you hold it all in."

The corner of his lip twitched upwards in a pseudo-smile, though it disappeared soon after. When he didn't say anything else, though, she straightened and prompted, "What exactly happened?"

"Something that shouldn't surprise me, if I'm to be honest. I approached her, thinking this would be the ideal time to tell her exactly how I felt. I'd mentioned it before, when we returned to Suramar before the first battle, but we hadn't really discussed things."

"And she said?"

"Nothing. She blew me off and said perhaps this wasn't the time. I have a feeling I'm simply too late. I'm not blind, you know. I see the way she and my brother look at each other—how every time we re-unite,  _he's_  the one she goes to first. It's always been that way, ever since we were young."

Unsure of what to say, Eliana stretched her legs out and rested her arms in her laps. A few seconds later, she opted for, "I'm sorry, Illidan. Perhaps there is still hope?"

A wry smile graced his lips then, and he looked up at her with his chin angled down. "If that had come from anyone else, I'd have believed they'd meant it, but...I know you really don't."

She cinched her eyebrows in annoyance. "That's not fair. I just want you to be happy, Illidan. If this makes you upset, then of course I'd wish for there to still be hope."

"But if there is no hope for me and Tyrande, wouldn't that mean I'd have all the more reason to see you?"

Her mouth dropped open indignantly, and she sputtered in protest. "I—I—That's not what I meant at all! I would never wish for that!"

His teasing smile slowly dissipated and he traipsed over to the bed, sitting down with a  _fwoomp_  and a deep sigh. He leaned back, and his shoulder brushed against hers. "I know you wouldn't. You're far too good for that."

Unsure of what to say in response, she looked down at her hands in her lap, clenched tightly in response to their conversation. Illidan must have sensed her trepidation, because his large hand engulfed her slim ones a few seconds later. She glanced up at him, and when her silver eyes met his amber ones, he spoke.

"I did not mean it as an insult, Eliana. It's one the things I value about you. Most elves...are not so honest, and  _truly_  good."

Somehow, no matter what way a situation drifted, Illidan always seemed to know what to say or do to make people agree with him. This one was no different. Eliana's cheeks darkened and she squeezed his hand, thankful for his words. To her surprise, he didn't pull away like she'd expected him to. They sat there, hand-in-hand, for a few amiable minutes.

Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "I know that it is stupid to still harbor hope. Perhaps it is time I simply give up on her."

She traced the veins on the back of his hand as she murmured, "As a Priestess of Elune, I can safely tell you that it is never stupid to harbor hope. Hope is what keeps us going; it drives us forward, gives us something to fight for, a reason to continue on. We should never just  _give up_."

"But war and love are two very different things."

At that, Eliana glanced up at him. When he looked over at her, she quietly asked, "Are they?"

Intently, he stared into her eyes, his brows furrowed slightly in thought. After a few seconds, instead of replying, he reached up and traced her jaw. "How can I argue with your sound wisdom?"

A chuckle escaped her, and she tried to look away, but he held her chin in place. When she looked back at him, he slowly leaned in, his gaze trained on her lips. Briefly, the thought of always being second to Tyrande, of never being the one that Illidan thought of first flitted through her mind, but then his lips met hers, and all of her worries disappeared.

It was nowhere near as long as the kisses they'd shared prior, but it was no less intense. When he pulled back, he traced his thumb across her lower lip. He moved to speak, but the shrill sounding of Lord Ravencrest's horn shattered the silence of the camp.

Illidan leaned back, his head turning towards the flap of his tent with concern etched on his face. "That's the horn to march. I wonder what's happened."

Quickly, Eliana slid off of his bed. "We should go find out."

"Agreed," he said, leading the way out of the tent.

Together, they briskly made their way to the commander's tent. When they brushed the flap aside and headed in, they were met with what appeared to be a small war council.

Lord Ravencrest himself was standing behind the strategy table, flanked by the flame-haired sorcerer Eliana had met before, and Cytheas. To the side of the sorcerer stood a pale, tall being that Eliana did not recognize. His ears tapered up and behind his head much like their own, but his skin was so white, he nearly seemed transparent. His hair was equally as waxen, and though she could sense the strength of his magic from across the space, he seemed...tired, almost.

In the far corner to their right stood Broxigar with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Clearly, he'd been present for whatever discussion had taken place, but it didn't appear as if he'd been entirely included.

Illidan stepped forward, his head swiveling from side to side in confusion. "Where is my brother, my lord?"

Lord Ravencrest gestured to the entrance they'd just come from. "I've sent word for them to prepare to mobilize the Priestesses of Elune. I believe he was with them."

Illidan nodded in acceptance—though Eliana saw his expression twist in displeasure ever-so-briefly—and he moved to stand beside Cytheas and the flame-haired sorcerer. Eliana drifted towards the corner to stand next to Broxigar, and that was when Lord Ravencrest pointed to the map on the table in front of him.

"If the scouts spotted the refugees here—" A thud echoed throughout the room as he jabbed his finger onto the table. "—then we should ride out and meet them. We should be able to reach them in time, if the reports are accurate."

"And if they aren't?" Cytheas questioned.

"Then we save as many as we can," the commander instructed with a grim set to his lips.

Illidan lowered his brows in confusion. "What refugees are we speaking of?"

"Reports have returned of a group of refugees trying to escape the clutches of a band of demons—mostly Eredar. The commander wishes to attempt to sideline the demons and rescue the refugees," Cytheas explained.

"Then we ride now," Illidan affirmed.

Lord Ravencrest and Cytheas nodded, and Illidan pressed his fist to his chest. "I will prepare the Moon Guard."

"Good. We ride in five," Lord Ravencrest instructed, rolling up the maps and handing them to Cytheas.

The pale, elven-featured male leaned in towards Lord Ravencrest and appeared to be rebutting the plan, but the commander waved his advice aside before striding out of the tent.

Illidan moved for the entrance, but paused in front of Eliana before he stepped outside. They stared at one another in silence, before Illidan reached out and grasped her hand tightly in his. With a terse nod, which she returned, he left the tent.

Cytheas had been right on his heels, but instead of heading out of the tent like she thought he would, he too approached her. They'd had little chance to speak since the troops had left Black Rook Hold, so Eliana found it comforting to see his face. He winked at her, likely because of the short interaction she and Illidan had just had, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she shook her head at his mirth. How he managed to find humor in all sorts of serious situations, she had no idea.

"What would I do without you, Cyth?" she asked, a teasing smile on her face.

"I wonder that too, sometimes." He stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders as he stared down into her eyes. "You will be safe, yes? I know I say that every time, and you're likely tired of hearing it, but we're going back into battle and...I cannot be by your side every second."

"I will, Cytheas. But only as long as you will be, too. I've already—" She broke off and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid that I've already lost my father. I cannot lose you, too."

He let out a short breath, and the corner of his lips twitched upwards. "You won't," he murmured. After pulling her in for a brief, but tight embrace, he left the tent.

Eliana watched them go before turning back around. When the pale stranger approached her, she bowed in reverence, though she couldn't quite explain the reason why. Rhonin, the flame-haired sorcerer, gestured to the male and said, "Priestess Eliana, this is Krasus, my mentor and a good friend."

"Sir Krasus, the honor is mine."

A warm, low chuckle filled the space. "Simply Krasus will do, child. The pleasure is most certainly mine." His smile faded ever-so-slightly, and he asked, "You are close with young Illidan, yes?"

"We are friends, yes," Eliana admitted. "Why do you wish to know, if I may ask?"

"Would it be too much of me to ask you to keep an eye on him during battle? He is powerful, but I worry that, unchecked, his magic could run rampant."

Concerned, Eliana pressed her lips together. This was the first she'd heard of Illidan possibly being unable to control his magic, and it concerned her. "It may be difficult for me to leave my sisters, but I can see if the High Priestess would be willing to station me in a group closer to the Moon Guard."

"Please do. Rhonin and I will do what we can to supervise him, but in the heat of battle, as I'm sure you know, things can be amiss."

Again, Eliana bowed her head. "Of course, Sir Krasus."

A short half-sigh, half-chuckle left the male, and he briefly touched her shoulder before he too left the tent. Rhonin was not far behind, and that left Eliana and Broxigar. The orc turned to Eliana and nodded, a grim expression on his face.

She returned the gesture and asked, "Would you like to go find Tyrande, Brox?"

"I have already spoken to the shaman, but this warrior thanks you. I will be at your sides on the battlefield," he grunted, patting the broad handle of his war axe.

"Then, I am grateful for your presence. We are safer for it. In that case,  _I_  shall go find my sisters and, as always, Elune's blessings upon you, Brox."

He bowed his head gratefully before trekking after the other soldiers, his steps heavy and thudding on the dirt.

Hastily, Eliana made her way back to the area the Priestesses' tent had been erected in. Most of the camp had already been taken down, and the soldiers were securing their supplies to the spare sabers in the herd. As she scurried past, she noted that Illidan's tent had also been packed up; he was likely at the front of the formation already.

When she arrived at the priestesses' tent, her sisters were already packed and preparing to saddle up. She scanned their ranks, searching for Tyrande's tell-tale mane, but couldn't find her anywhere. Unfortunately, Malfurion was also nowhere to be seen, and she surmised that he too had joined the main battalion.

She'd moved to head to the other end of the squad, when Tyrande appeared from behind a stack of crates. The sudden movement prompted Eliana to glance over, and Tyrande beelined for her as soon as they made eye contact. Oddly enough, there was a bow and quiver in her hands.

In lieu of a greeting, Tyrande asked, "Where have you been?"

"I was with Illidan for a moment and then we met Lord Ravencrest in his tent. Why, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, I simply didn't want to ride out without you. High Priestess Dehjana has assigned us to the same squad."

Relief flooded through Eliana. At least there was one person she cared about that she could keep an eye on. "Thank Elune."

Tyrande nodded, her expression mirroring Eliana's. "I said the same. We are to be nearby the Moon Guard, acting as medical support when needed. Otherwise, we are to fill the role of full offense."

Eliana nodded in acknowledgment, pleased that both situations had worked out so well. "Lord Krasus asked us to keep an eye on Illidan, though he wasn't very informative as to the reason why."

"Lord Krasus is concerned for Illidan?"

"You know Lord Krasus?" Eliana questioned.

"I've met him—once. He…" Tyrande trailed off, seemingly unsure of what to say.

It seemed strange that Eliana knew exactly what Tyrande was trying to explain. There had been this...aura about Krasus, this compelling strength, and magical prowess that immediately demanded a strong sense of respect. It felt like she  _knew_  him, though she knew that wasn't true.

Eventually, Eliana said, "I couldn't explain the way I felt about him, either."

Tyrande nodded, and they stared at each other in silent communication. A few seconds later, Tyrande handed her the bow and quiver. "These are for you."

"You know I can't use this very well," Eliana protested, her face scrunching up in embarrassment.

"I've seen Cytheas train you. You're proficient enough to use them in an emergency. I know you prefer your daggers, but just in case you need these, I want you to have them."

Warmth flooded Eliana's chest and she briefly touched her hand to her heart before taking the weapon from Tyrande. "Thank you, Sister."

Tyrande smiled. "Of course," she said, before she turned and walked away with Eliana on her heel. "Mount up. We should be riding out momentarily."

"Affirmative." She branched off and headed for Kal'Shalla, who was just beside Tyrande's mount. With a quick, affectionate rub behind the sabercat's ears in greeting, she hopped into her saddle and adjusted the quiver and bow on her back before ensuring that her daggers were secure in their sheaths.

Within seconds, a second horn sounded out throughout the camp. One-by-one, a few of her sisters filed in next to her and Tyrande pulled her mount around to face them. "We ride to the front of the troop, my sisters! For Elune!"

"For Elune!" they echoed back, weapons raised into the air in added fervor.

A sudden bout of nerves swarmed over Eliana, and her palms broke out into a sweat, even though they were encased in her leather gloves. Though it had been a few weeks since they last rode into battle, it still seemed too soon to return to an environment rife with pain and death. It would always be too soon. Her posture must've betrayed her, because Tyrande reached over and held her hand out to Eliana.

Surprised, Eliana glanced up at her fellow priestess. When Tyrande offered a reassuring, warm smile, ease flooded through Eliana, and she placed her hand in her friend's outstretched one. Things were different this time around, because they were all fighting together to save their people.

Briefly, they squeezed each other's hands before Tyrande let go and faced forward again. With a resounding cry, she broke out into a run, leading her squad to where Illidan and his Moon Guard were, just to the left of Lord Ravencrest.

They sidled up to the sorcerers and Illidan glanced over in response, his eyebrows furrowed low over his eyes. When he saw Eliana and Tyrande at the forefront of their squad, his expression darkened in displeasure. "What in Elune's name are you two doing  _here_?"

Eliana was unsure whether he meant at his side, or at the front lines. Thankfully, Tyrande maneuvered the situation as gracefully as always, and explained, "We're your support. Someone has to watch over you."

At that, Illidan's expression worsened. Clearly, he didn't seem to take Tyrande's teasing very well, and quickly, Eliana added, "High Priestess Dehjana has assigned us as your healing aid. If you or any of your Moon Guard need us, we'll be there, Illidan."

At that, Illidan's expression smoothed out, though he still didn't look entirely too happy with being assigned anything akin to supervision. However, he couldn't deny that, in times of war, having aid immediately nearby could never hurt. He also didn't have time to protest as Lord Ravencrest sounded the final horn for the force to finally ride out.

All he could do was send a stern look in their direction. When he met her gaze, she knew it was one he meant to mean, "Stay safe".

Not long after, Lord Ravencrest and his main squad lurched forward and before she knew it, they were all riding ahead for the forests of Kalimdor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaat. An update only a week or two after the last one? It's like I have free time or something (I don't, lol). 
> 
> Anyway, as always, thanks to Arenoptara for beta-reading for me. I thought we'd be back to the action this chapter, but it felt rushed and I realized that it needed a bit more downtime and character development. Clearly, as you can see from the end of the chapter, the next one will throw everyone back in the heat of battle. Oddly enough, I miss writing action scenes.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments last chapter. It's a little ridiculous how much I love talking with my readers, so don't be shy!


	18. Chapter 18

Within minutes of the order being given, the entire company set off in the direction of the refugees. Lord Ravencrest commanded that they ride without rest until they intercepted the demons. Though it would force them to go into battle during the daylight hours, none in the formation had complaints about that if it meant they could save lives. Rarely did they arrive in time to do so.

According to the scouts, the refugees were fleeing towards Halumar, a small settlement a few miles outside of Zin-Azshari. Cytheas had mentioned that Lord Ravencrest was pleased that they could ride to the aid of the refugees without veering off-course too much.

Eliana wondered if that was the only reason he'd agreed to rescue them at all.

It wasn't that she believed the commander was a heartless, cruel man, but he had always made it clear that _his_ priorities applied to his force as well. If the refugees were too far off their intended path, she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd chalked them up to be collateral damage.

They approached Halumar with all of them riding at the forefront of the group. Tyrande and Eliana led their small squad of priestesses that Tyrande had been put in charge of, while the High Priestess rode beside Lord Ravencrest. Where the commander was, Cytheas and Illidan could usually be found as well. In this case, for whatever reason, the commander had instructed them to flank him, putting Cytheas closer to the females, and Illidan closer to the High Priestess. When they were a few miles outside of the settlement, Cytheas faced them and signaled for Tyrande and Eliana's attention. When they met his gaze across the way, he formed a quick hand signal that indicated it was time for their discussed plan of action.

Tyrande nodded in acknowledgement, and over her shoulder, commanded, "Spread out, sisters! We are to provide as much support to whomever needs it as possible!"

The Priestesses of Elune drifted apart, dispersing themselves periodically throughout the soldiers. On the other side of Lord Ravencrest, High Priestess Dehjana instructed the other half of their sisters to do the same. After the priestesses were woven into formation with the soldiers, Illidan and his Moon Guard stretched out along the forefront of the battalion, offering offensive strength to the front lines. Malfurion, as well as the outsiders, rode in a small group close to Lord Ravencrest, flanked on all sides by Jarod's small force of soldiers from Suramar Hold.

No more than a few seconds after they'd all settled into their new formation, they rode up and over the hill towards the settlement. Down below, the small group of refugees could be seen sprinting towards Halumar with the demons on their heels.

The second the company reached the base of the hill, Lord Ravencrest waved his sword in the air and the battle horns were sounded. As they rode closer to the settlement, the verdant grass beneath their feet gave way to dead, decaying underbrush. The lush trees that had surrounded them slowly faded away, leaving burnt and broken shells of their former beauty. The Burning Legion had left nothing alive in their wake.

When Lord Ravencrest sounded his personal horn—two short, high-pitched notes—the Priestesses of Elune drew their bows and launched a volley of arrows at the demons. Distracted, the Eredar was not prepared for when the Moon Guard stepped forth and threw bolts of lightning their way. Illidan took the opportunity to unleash a devastating golden bolt into the center of their ranks. Chunks of flesh and ichorous blood rained down on the demons' comrades, and Illidan's only reaction was to laugh—laughter that was infused with a crazed amount of adrenaline and pride.

It was this display of pure power and reckless abandonment that led Eliana to finally understand why Lord Krasus and Lord Rhonin had been so concerned about the young sorcerer. Illidan was filled with potential and an amount of magical strength that few could ever hope to achieve. Left unchecked, he would succumb to the temptation that gaining _more_ power offered.

When the Night Elven force collided with the front lines of the Eredar, she was pulled out of her reverie. The fighting was intense, but surprisingly short-lived. It seemed that with little effort, thanks to the Moon Guard and Lord Krasus' distractions, they decimated the Burning Legion's ranks. Each subsequent death gave the soldiers cause for hope, and when the High Priestess herself took down one of the horned demons, the priestesses raised their weapons into the air with a victorious shout.

During the next lull in the battle, the ground beneath their feet rumbled. A few seconds later, tree roots burst out of the dirt. Looping back down to create hurdles of nature, the roots tripped the Eredar, causing chaos in their ranks. Lord Ravencrest sounded his horn once more, and the priestesses took the opportunity to nock new arrows, loosing them into the rear of the Burning Legion's forces.

Feeling triumphant, Eliana glanced upwards to thank Elune for her grace and protection, when she noticed that the cloud cover had transformed into something far darker, and more menacing. The previously fluffy, white underside of the clouds was now thick, pregnant with something that felt far more unnatural than rain. Her gaze dropped back down to the battlefield, and it was then that she noticed Lord Krasus race past. It looked like he was heading in the direction of Lord Ravencrest's banner.

_What in Elune's name is going on?_ she thought to herself, before racing after him.

When she caught up with him a few feet later, she saw that he'd switched directions. Instead of Lord Ravencrest, he was standing just in front of Malfurion. Before she could approach them, the two males shared a grim nod and Malfurion spurred his mount before racing out of her sight.

Krasus moved to sprint away again, but she pushed Kal'Shalla forward and intercepted him. "Lord Krasus!" she called out.

He halted in place and waited for her to approach. As she rode closer, she noted that his pauldrons were splattered with blood, and the circles under his eyes seemed more prominent than ever before. "Priestess Eliana. I am glad to see you are alive."

"Likewise," she replied with a respectful bow of her head. "What is going on?"

His eyebrows cinched together. "Caught that, did you? Good, I'm glad someone around here is observant. Look above us—quickly, child!"

Frantically, Eliana glanced upwards at the darkened clouds. "What am I looking for?"

"'Tis an illusion. Malfurion has gone to try and warn the soldiers. Be on your guard. They will likely attack us from above."

"From above?"

Without further warning, the illusion that Krasus had spoken of dissipated. From the cover of the clouds, winged demons rained down on them, their hands alight with the eerie green flow of fel energy.

With a frightened gasp, Eliana's hold on her daggers tightened. As the new wave flew closer, the demons sprayed an unknown liquid down upon the Night Elves. A few drops fell on Eliana's armor as she raised her arm to block her face. Krasus darted towards her, muttering a quick spell as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. The liquid quickly evaporated, and she glanced up at the elder mage, confused.

When the soldiers beside her cried out in surprise and pain as the drops melted through their armor, she sucked in a sharp breath. "Thank you, Lord Krasus."

"Think nothing of it, priestess. Go!" he shouted, before hopping onto his mount once more and taking off for the heat of battle.

Eliana didn't have a chance to question his next destination, for another loud boom sounded from the sky above. When she glanced upwards, massive creatures comprised of rock and fel energy dropped out of the clouds. They landed on the field with a resounding thud, shaking the ground beneath her feet so greatly that she nearly lost her balance. Their glowing green eyes, set in skull-like faces, stared down at the Night Elves with a frightening level of apathy, like they were nothing more than bugs to be crushed.

One of them turned and met her gaze, and without warning, barrelled through their ranks. Eliana let out a terrified cry and dove out of the way. Unfortunately, unlike her, not everyone could reach safety in time, and many of the soldiers were trampled. Cries of agony rose up into the air, and she clutched at her chest, feeling a mixture of her peers' pain as well as her own panicked, racing heart.

A strong hand gripped her upper arm and helped pull her to her feet. When she turned to thank them, she realized that it had been Cytheas. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of a horn blaring from the north.

Within seconds of the warning, another wave of demons rushed over the hill to the north and descended upon the Night Elven forces. Cytheas swore under his breath and hooked his hand underneath Eliana's elbow, dragging her along with him towards their mounts. Without a word, he hoisted her up and into her saddle.

When he moved away, Eliana cried out, "Cytheas, wait!"

"There's no time to wait, Eliana! You need to return to Tyrande and regroup!"

"Where will _you_ go?"

With a grim expression, he nodded towards the front lines, where the demons had appeared. Her heart sank into her stomach, and her abdomen tightened in despair. "No, Cytheas, you can't! You—"

"I have to, Eli. Be safe," he said hurriedly, before hopping into his saddle and racing off towards the new center of battle.

A shaky breath escaped her as she watched him ride away. Her eyes slid shut for the briefest moment as she prayed to Elune to keep him safe, and alive. She couldn't lose him, too.

When she opened them again, Lord Krasus moved into sight in front of her once more. He was in the midst of a heated discussion with Rhonin, the flame-haired sorcerer. A few minutes later, after frantic gestures on Lord Krasus' part, Rhonin nodded and rode off. Eliana glanced around her, searching for Tyrande. Before she could find her fellow priestess, another horn blared from the south. When she looked toward the new warning, she saw another wave of demons riding in from the opposite direction. Her heart sank. What had seemed like an easy battle had become far worse, and she realized they'd walked right into the demons' trap.

It seemed as if Lord Ravencrest had realized it, too. Before she could join either battle, the horns that indicated the call for retreat sounded. Her grip on Kal'Shalla's reins tightened, and she frantically looked around her for a familiar face. She'd since lost sight of both Illidan and Malfurion, and Cytheas was nowhere to be seen. It had been quite some time since she'd seen Tyrande, as well. Panic seized her.

Though she wanted to search for them, it was then that the entire Night Elven force shifted and started moving back towards Suramar, rather than Zin-Azshari. All she could do was move along with the herd, lest be she trampled, and hope her loved ones were still alive. With a click of her tongue, Kal'Shalla about-faced and they raced back for the city.

Several hours later, when Suramar's ramparts came into view, the weight of the collective grief radiating from the company was more than Eliana could handle. With heaving breaths, she followed the rest of the soldiers through the city gates. Not long after she entered, Lord Ravencrest barreled through the gates on his panther, expression fierce and frenzied. Quickly, he barked orders at his officers who raced off into the city to gather the civilians. Eliana saw Jarod head towards the living quarters, and, _thank Elune_ , Cytheas went in the opposite direction. Illidan pulled up beside the commander, and the sight of him, alive and well, had her eyes flooding with grateful tears.

She breathed another sigh when Tyrande, with Malfurion astride her mount, and High Priestess Dehjana, entered the city not long after. Malfurion was slumped over in the saddle, seemingly drained of energy, and Tyrande had her arms looped around his waist. If it weren't for her support, he likely would've keeled over onto the cobblestones.

Eliana made her way over to them, and when she stood before the High Priestess, she placed her hand over her heart and bowed deeply in her saddle. "High Priestess, I am so relieved to see that you are well."

"I thank you for your brave efforts, Priestess Starhelm. Please, stay with Tyrande while I gather our forces. I expect we will leave soon," Dehjana instructed, before hurrying off in Lord Ravencrest's direction.

"Leave? What does she mean?" Eliana questioned Tyrande.

Maudlin, Tyrande shook her head. "The demons still pursue us. We are only here to try and get as many civilians out of the city as possible."

"But . . . where will we go?"

"I suspect Lord Ravencrest plans on leading us back to Black Rook Hold. The Hold is much better equipped for defensive measures than the city is."

"Suramar is hardly large enough to hold the commander's entire force, let alone the civilians as well! There is no way we will all fit in the Hold!"

Tyrande shook her head again, ready to reply, but she was interrupted by the sound of paws padding against the stones. When they both turned towards the sound, Cytheas rode up to them with his hair flying in the breeze; sometime during the last battle, the leather strap that bound his ponytail had come loose.

"What are you two still doing here?" Though he sounded angry, with his brows drawn low over his eyes, Eliana had known him long enough that she knew he was more concerned for their safety than truly angry.

"Waiting for orders," Eliana explained defensively. "High Priestess Dehjana rode off to gather the rest of our priestesses, and last we saw, the commander had sent you and Jarod off to find civilians."

"Yes, and we're back now. I suspect that—"

This time, their conversation was interrupted by the sharp blaring of the horn once more. Cytheas tilted his head in concession and finished his earlier sentence with, "That the horn to move out will be sounding shortly. Come on!"

Both of the priestesses hurried after him towards the front of the company where, conveniently, the High Priestess stood waiting beside Lord Ravencrest. When she saw Tyrande with Eliana at her side, she nodded at them before facing forward again.

Once Cytheas slid into place beside Lord Ravencrest, the commander raised his sword into the air and shouted, "We ride for Black Rook Hold!"

The sound of so many people moving at once, both on foot and mounted on sabers, filled the air. Even as a low-ranking, relatively inexperienced priestess, Eliana knew that they were moving far too slowly towards the Hold. At a normal pace, the Hold was at least a day's ride. With all of the civilians now with the army, it would take days to reach the safety of the Hold. Days that they did not have.

As they moved towards the mountains, the demons continued to assault the rear of the company. A few hours later, a wave of death wash over her and she glanced behind them, back towards Suramar. Beside her, she heard Tyrande cry out in grief as well. Though she'd expected to feel death and sorrow as their people perished behind them, she hadn't been expecting to witness the destruction of their beloved city.

The trees that held their unique, beautiful homes toppled over, crashing onto the ground with earth-shaking thuds. The tall, strong walls that had previously protected them so well, crumbled and collapsed under the demons' relentless attacks. Tears welled in Eliana's eyes at the sight, and she faced forward again, feeling her prior hope dwindle.

If Zin-Azshari _and_ Suramar could not withstand their onslaught, what hope did they as a people have of surviving this?

As they made their way through the cover of the forest, the sun sank below the mountains, throwing them all into the familiar cover of darkness. Eliana had not slept since their last day in camp, and though she'd never been able to sleep during the night hours before, if she'd had the opportunity, she had little doubt that it could happen now.

Night turned into day, and day turned into another night, and still they rode on and on. They would have reached the Hold by now, but as they rode, the number of refugees within their ranks continued to grow. The next day, as they kept making their way through the forest, Eliana saw Black Rook Hold's ramparts rising over the cover of the trees. When they passed by the Hold instead of stopping, Eliana looked over at Tyrande with a silent question in her eyes.

Her friend met her gaze, eyes droopy and swollen from lack of sleep. "There is no way we can house all of the refugees and soldiers in the Hold. Our numbers are too great, by this point. I have no idea where we are riding to."

"We can't continue on like this forever," Eliana muttered.

"No, we cannot," Tyrande agreed under her breath, stroking the soft green strands of Malfurion's hair. He still had not awoken and lay slumped over across Tyrande's saddle.

On the third night, Eliana glanced up through the treeline and realized that Mount Hyjal was just ahead of them. Confusion flooded her, and she stared up at the colossal summit with narrowed, exhausted eyes. Mount Hyjal was miles away from Suramar. Had they really ridden so far?

To her surprise, Lord Ravencrest's horn signaled for the force to halt. A sigh of relief left her, and beside her, Tyrande echoed her sentiment. With the slightest pull on their mounts' reins, they moved over and under the cover of the trees before dismounting. Both sabercats lowered themselves onto their bellies, exhausted and drained from the relentless pace Lord Ravencrest had demanded.

Gently, Eliana and Tyrande lowered Malfurion's still form to the ground and propped him up against the side of Tyrande's mount. He remained unconscious, but he was still breathing, and so there was still hope. Eliana suspected that whatever he'd encountered during their last battle had sapped him of all his energy, and his body was fighting as hard as it could to recuperate.

As they were getting settled, the High Priestess rode up to them on her own regal mount—a sleek Frostsaber that could rival Lord Ravencrest's black panther in quality. In a hurried tone, she instructed, "Tyrande, Eliana, I want you two to move through the company and heal everyone you can. The civilians are intermingled with the soldiers, and I'm afraid there's no way to keep track of everyone just yet. Do what you can in the name of Elune."

"Yes, High Priestess," they both agreed. With a curt nod, High Priestess Dehjana took off into the throng.

"Eliana," Tyrande began, prompting Eliana to look back at her friend. "I have a favor to ask of you, and I know that it is much to request . . ."

"What is it, Tyrande?"

"I . . . I am nervous and hesitant to leave Malfurion unsupervised. If his condition changes and we are not here . . ."

Eliana nodded in understanding. "You wish to stay with him."

Tyrande mirrored her gesture. "I know that it is unfair of me to ask you to treat everyone, but—"

Eliana held up her hand to interrupt her friend. "I understand, Tyrande. I would ask the same. It is no favor at all," she reassured Tyrande as she rose to her feet.

"The moment you feel tired or weak, come back, and I will take over."

"All right," she agreed, before touching Tyrande on the shoulder ever-so-briefly. With one last shared nod, she moved away and into the crowd.

It was only a few bodies later that she had to make her first prayer of the day. A young elf had sprained her ankle during the escape, and as such, could not keep up pace with the rest of the company without feeling excruciating pain. If left alone, her condition would get much worse. A quick prayer to Elune had the swollen joint back to normal, but Eliana suggested that the female keep her leg elevated until they moved on once more.

Many of the wounds she treated were superficial, like the first, but there were still far too many soldiers and civilians who needed more medical attention than she could give. Feeling helpless, and wishing she'd specialized in dedicated healing rather than the art of defensive measures, Eliana could do no more for them than to mark them with a small glowing orb, floating above their heads, for the healers. Though they were all grateful for her prayers and comfort, she couldn't help but feel that, once again, she was useless.

Just under an hour later, she spotted Cytheas' familiar mane farther up ahead in the company. With a quick apology and a promise that she'd return momentarily to the civilian she'd been treating, she rushed over to him. "Cytheas! Cyth, you're alive!"

The moment he faced her, he broke out into a wide smile. "Eliana! Oh, thank Elune!"

She threw her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his around her waist. For a moment, it was as if the horrors of battle, and all of her previous stress, dissipated. Cytheas was safe. That was one less loved one to worry about.

"I'm so happy to see you alive," she murmured into his chest.

"I was just about to say the same." He pulled back and swept her hair away from her face, checking her over for injuries. When he was satisfied at her condition, he straightened and peered down at her in consternation. "What are you doing all the way up here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're nearly at the front lines, Eli. I'm only this far back because I needed to see a healer before going back out there."

"A healer?" A spike of panic lanced through Eliana's chest. What had happened since they'd last seen each other?

Quickly, Cytheas shook his head. "It was a minor injury, but it was bleeding profusely. I couldn't fight with my blood dripping all over my hands."

Eliana cringed at the brutal image that popped into her mind at that description. Cytheas patted her shoulder before adding, "It sounds worse than it was, I promise. Seriously, though. What are you doing all the way back here?"

"The High Priestess instructed us to heal as many of our people as we were able to. I just . . . I simply kept going. I hadn't realized I'd come this far."

"It's not safe back here, Eliana. You need to return to your position."

"Nowhere is safe any longer, Cyth! Our home is lost, our capital is razed to the ground and is now a—a twisted version of the city we used to love that the demons are using for their own horrible purposes!" As she spoke, her energy seemed to continually drain out of her. She swayed on her feet, and Cytheas caught her before she fell.

"Right, like I said. Return to where you were. You need to rest as well."

"I can rest later," she tried to protest, though her voice was feeble.

"There might not be a 'later'. Please, go back," he pleaded.

She sighed before meeting his gaze. When he nodded in encouragement, she returned the gesture. "Fine. I just . . . have you seen Illidan?"

For the briefest of moments, Cytheas' expression shuttered, before the corner of his lips quirked upwards. "Illidan is up on the front lines with the Moon Guard. He's working with them to keep the demons at bay. I wouldn't recommend that you go looking for him just yet."

She knew she hadn't imagined the change in his countenance. In an attempt to assuage him, she said, "Cytheas, I simply wanted to make sure that he was all right."

"He's fine. I saw him before I came back here. In fact, I'd say he's better than fine," he reassured her with a scoff.

"This is no time for jests, Cytheas," she reprimanded him.

"I wasn't jesting. Truly, he's magnificent on the battlefield." Though his words dripped with sarcasm, Eliana noted the slightest hint of envy and lightheartedness that she was familiar with.

The smallest bit of relief swept over her, and she sighed again. "I'm glad that he's all right, if what you say is true. If you see him sometime soon, let him know that Malfurion isn't feeling well."

Cytheas drew his brows together. "What happened?"

"I think something occurred during the last battle. He's been unconscious since."

Something over her shoulder caught Cytheas' attention, and when he looked behind her, he touched her elbow before jerking his head in the opposite direction. Eliana turned, and when she saw Tyrande and Malfurion heading their way, she sucked in a surprised breath.

She ran over to meet them, and when she stood before them, she said, "Malfurion, I am happy to see that you are awake!"

He smiled at her, though he still looked exhausted, and briefly touched her arm. "Thank you for your concern, Eliana."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he replied in dismissal as he glanced around them. "Have you seen my brother?"

"I haven't. Cytheas said he was—" She was interrupted by Cytheas himself walking up to join them.

"He was on the front lines when I last saw him a few moments ago."

Malfurion nodded, his countenance grim. "How are we holding up?"

Cytheas hesitated, glancing over at Eliana before looking back at Malfurion. "Our troops cannot continue fighting forever. We've started cycling through in waves, switching out our troops at regular intervals but . . . eventually, we will _all_ need rest."

The druid nodded, and it was then that Illidan's charismatic voice carried out over the crowd. "Brother!"

Out of the row of soldiers ahead of them, Illidan emerged, looking surprisingly unscathed. At the sight of him still whole and well, the burden on Eliana's shoulders lifted. They were all safe. Illidan approached them and clapped Malfurion on the shoulder, completely ignoring his brother's grimace of pain. He had a manic grin on his face, and Eliana suspected the adrenaline high from such intense battles in quick succession still had not left him.

When Illidan reached them, he scanned Malfurion from head to toe with a surprisingly jovial expression on his face. "What happened to you? I had heard reports that someone had seen you struck down."

"I—It's difficult to explain. But I'm fine now. Tyrande—" Malfurion cut himself off with a guarded look at the other priestess, before clearing his throat.

Tyrande shifted in place. "I managed to rescue Malfurion from the battlefield. I remained with him while he was resting, to ensure that he healed well."

" _Did_ you?" Illidan questioned, his voice lowering to an uncomfortable volume.

The pair did not respond, and Illidan shifted his attention to Eliana and Cytheas. "I see you two have found each other as well."

Somehow, his words sounded like an accusation, and Eliana bristled. She'd explicitly stated to Illidan how she felt about him, and where things between she and Cytheas lay. It was petty of him, and immature, to point out something like that when he was obviously upset about Tyrande and his twin. Especially in such a place as this.

She opened her mouth to retort, but Illidan turned away and looked at Malfurion once more. "Krasus was looking for you, brother."

"Krasus? Whatever for?"

Illidan shrugged, his expression dark. "I've no idea, he didn't tell me."

"Where _is_ Lord Krasus?" Tyrande asked.

"Exactly where I just came from," Illidan replied, pointing over his shoulder at the front lines. Green lightning streaked through the sky behind him as he finished with, "The front lines."

Malfurion nodded. "Then let us go find him."

The males nodded, but when they moved to head forward, Tyrande and Eliana remained behind. "Unfortunately, we cannot go with you," Tyrande explained with a frown. "The High Priestess has ordered us to fall back to support and heal."

"Then that is what you need to do," Malfurion reassured her in a gentle tone. "Be careful, Tyrande."

"Shouldn't that be my line?" she asked, her expression soft.

Malfurion smiled before turning and heading north. Cytheas nodded at Eliana, which she returned, but when she glanced over at Illidan, he simply stood there, staring at her. Her previous smile morphed into a stern frown.

Tyrande stepped forward and touched Illidan's upper arm. "I am glad you are safe as well, Illidan."

With cold eyes, he shifted his amber gaze from Eliana to Tyrande. "Are you? Hm," he grunted. A few seconds passed before he added, "You should remain safe, too, Tyra—for me."

She offered a hesitant smile before turning away and meeting Eliana's gaze as she brushed past. A warning lay within her eyes, and Eliana nodded imperceptibly before looking up at Illidan again. He didn't say anything, much to her irritation—just stood there with crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

Though she was equally as cross with him, due to his words earlier, she tilted her chin up at him and said, "I'm glad you are unharmed, Illidan." Despite how angry she may have been, that much was still true.

He quirked his eyebrow at her, as if he didn't believe her, and she rolled her eyes in response. With an exasperated exhale, she demanded, "What is it? I can tell that you are angry, but I don't understand why."

"The first thing you do as soon as we get a reprieve is find Cytheas. The first thing Tyrande does is rescue Malfurion. I can't help but think none of you care to find _me_."

"Tyrande aided Malfurion because he lost consciousness on the _battlefield_ , Illidan! Your brother could have died, and you're more concerned with the fact that the woman you love helped him live?" He moved to speak, but she stopped him with a firm shake of her head. "And, for your information, I was looking for the _both_ of you. In fact, I asked Cytheas where you were and when he told me the front lines, I had every intention of coming to find you, despite his advice that I _not_ do that."

Briefly, he dropped his gaze to the ground before looking at her again, though he still didn't speak. Conscious of how loud they were being, Eliana lowered her voice before she spoke again. "Illidan, I worried about you every moment of our last battle. When I realized that it had been so long since I'd seen you, my first thought was to find you and make sure that you were all right. I've told you how I feel. Don't you think it's a bit unfair of you to assume that I don't care?"

He held her gaze intently for a few moments, until he walked towards her. When he stood just in front of her, he stared down at her with an unreadable expression. Finally, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in a chaste kiss. "You are right. I am sorry I jumped to conclusions."

"I forgive you, but . . . you have to remember that I am not Tyrande," she reminded him in a soft voice.

Surprised, he reeled back. A few seconds later, he offered a reluctant nod. "I know you aren't."

She mirrored the gesture before tracing the high ridge of his cheekbone with the back of her hand. "I have to go back. Promise me you'll be safe still?"

"Haven't I been thus far?" he teased.

"Illidan . . ."

"All right, all right." He cupped her shoulders with his hands. "I promise, if you promise."

"Of course I do."

With a light push, he said, "Go. I need to join my brother and Cytheas, anyway."

Though they both took a step back, neither one of them wanted to be the first one to turn away. A few seconds later, with a quiet laugh, Eliana shook her head and pivoted on her heel and walked back towards the rear of the group. Shortly after, she heard Illidan's heavy steps fade away as he too returned to his position.

_Cytheas, Illidan . . . Elune, please keep them safe._

* * *

_A few hours later, at the base of Mount Hyjal._

"Quickly, sisters! We must do what we can to aid the soldiers!" High Priestess Dehjana cried, directing the priestesses to the center of the offensive group.

For hours now, they'd been fighting to keep the demons at bay. Their enemies had a newfound determination that did not bode well for the Night Elves, and it was even more discouraging that they'd been pushed as far back as the base of Mount Hyjal. According to Lord Krasus, they could go no further. Here would be where they made their stand.

How the mage had such certainty that this is where they would prevail, Eliana had no idea.

Their healing powers were no longer enough, and as the soldiers on the frontlines fought to buy them time, the High Priestess had declared that they had a new objective: give the soldiers as much strength as possible. Quickly, the priestess linked hands and formed a prayer circle, not unlike the ones they often created in the Chamber of the Moon. On the High Priestess' cue, they all sang their most beloved hymn, reserved for moments of the most dire need.

Above them, the sun's potent, warm rays shone down on them. Despite the fact that daytime was not their people's strongest hour, the hymn called forth an ethereal glow from the Mother Moon that enveloped the priestesses entirely. Up ahead, the soldiers let out a rally cry, and each sister breathed a sigh of relief that their plea had worked.

Inch by inch, the demons were pushed back, and Mount Hyjal became farther away. Airborne warlocks in the demons' forces took to the sky, aiming for the Moon Guard with their own jagged bolts of lightning. Illidan, Krasus, and Rhonin's efforts doubled in order to keep their enemies at bay. On the ground, Cytheas, Malfurion, Jarod, and Lord Ravencrest himself led the troops into the fray, cutting down any demons in their path.

About an hour later, amazingly, the Burning Legion began to retreat. Though a few of the Night Elven warriors gave chase, Lord Ravencrest sounded the halt. Immediately after their soldiers returned to the front line, the commander sounded his dual signal for the priestesses to release a volley of arrows. Hurriedly, they released one another's hands and spread out, lifting their bows and chasing the demons with their own offensive tactics. Their arrows managed to take down the rear line of the enemy's forces, but the remainder of their army eventually moved beyond their range.

Again, Lord Ravencrest sounded the single horn to halt their offense, and the priestesses stepped back.

Beside Eliana, Tyrande let out a quick exhale. "Thank Elune. We managed to stop them from pushing us beyond the mountain, just as Lord Krasus said."

"And just in time, it seems," Eliana responded, glancing about the battlefield. Their soldiers were worn, injured, and exhausted. They all needed as much of a reprieve as they could get.

High Priestess Dehjana moved in front of the priestesses and pointed behind them. "Spread out and heal as many as you can, sisters!"

A chorus of agreement rang out from the priestesses, and they spread out amongst the soldiers, ready to do their duty. Though they were reluctant to do so, Eliana and Tyrande separated from each other in order to aid as many elves as they could. With a heavy look and a nod, they went in opposite directions.

As she moved farther back, away from the front lines, Eliana's heart simultaneously grew heavier and lighter. Their people had been through so, so much, and yet, many of them were still unerringly positive and hopeful in such a bleak situation. More often than not, when she rose to her feet to move on to the next individual who needed assistance, both she and the ones she helped felt a sense of calm settle over them. Elune would protect them as much as she could, Eliana was absolutely certain of that. Her certainty helped her people as well.

A little while later, when she'd made it about halfway through the gathering, she saw Tyrande walking past with a young female in tow. Every step that Tyrande took, the young one tried to match her stride, and Eliana chuckled at her friend's ability to lead and inspire even when it was not her intent. Even their hair color was similar.

Eliana's mirth faded quickly when she saw the look on Tyrande's face. Her fellow priestess had a determined set to her jaw, and her eyes were narrowed in concentration as she appeared to search for someone in the throng. Part of her wanted to run over and meet up with her friend, exhausted as she was, but she knew she had responsibilities to her people, just as Tyrande did. So she turned away, back towards the civilian she'd been helping prior to spotting her friend.

Again, more hours passed, but this time, the reprieve thankfully felt like it would be longer than the first. The elven forces and the Burning Legion had done equal devastation to one another, and the demons would likely need time to recuperate, as did the elves.

Profound exhaustion threatened to overwhelm Eliana. After finishing a prayer for a refugee, she staggered over to a nearby tree, sliding down its length until she collapsed onto the ground.

_Just . . . a few minutes . . . won't hurt. Right?_

Her eyes slid shut, and before she knew it, the world fell away into blissful silence.

She awoke to the sound of multiple frenzied footsteps. As she sat up, a soft, cotton blanket slid down her body. Confused, she lifted it and glanced around, seeing no one nearby. A kind refugee must have covered her in her sleep, grateful for her aid and prayer. After folding the blanket into a neat pile, she returned to the encampment, trying to find the source of the footsteps.

A few seconds later, Jarod Shadowsong sprinted past. Surprised, Eliana reached out to him. "Jarod! Wait!"

He skidded to a halt and glanced back at her. When he recognized her, he about-faced and offered a quick bow. "Priestess Eliana. I'm sorry, I must—"

"What's going on?" She interrupted him quickly, so that he wouldn't have a chance to deny her an answer.

With a sideways glance, he let out a short sigh. "I . . . Malfurion and Krasus have disappeared."

"What?" Eliana exclaimed, striding forward and grasping his arm. "When?"

"A couple of hours ago. We just found out. Lord Ravencrest is _not_ pleased."

At his words, she remembered that Jarod had been assigned to watch Malfurion. With the druid's disappearance, it did not put Jarod in the best of positions.

_No wonder he looks so harried._ Eliana crossed her arms over her chest, and her armor pulled against her shoulders. She'd had it on for so long, she couldn't have imagined her skin was very happy.

Jarod shuffled in place. "I have to go, priestess, I am sorry. I have to report to Lord Ravencrest."

"I will come with you."

"Wha—I'm not sure he'd want one of Elune's priestesses present, aside from Tyrande. He's trying to keep this quiet—"

"Tyrande? If she's there, then I am most _definitely_ coming with you." She gestured in front of her. "Please, lead the way, Jarod."

Seemingly frustrated, he stared at her for a moment, trying to get her to back down. When she continued to stand there with her arms crossed, he let out a conceding sigh and gestured for her to follow after him. Together, they made their way towards the front of the camp, where, according to Jarod, Lord Ravencrest's temporary tent of operations had been erected.

In addition to Tyrande and finding out what was going on, Eliana knew that Illidan was likely to present as well. He'd been no farther than a few feet from the commander since the war began.

A few minutes later, they approached the rich violet tent, and Jarod offered a nod to the guard posted in front of the entrance. The guard eyed Eliana suspiciously, but when he recognized her armor as that of the priestesses, he nodded her in as well.

They entered in the midst of a great argument, from the sounds of things. Tyrande was explaining something to Lord Ravencrest as Illidan, Cytheas, Brox, and Rhonin listened in.

As she was waving her hands in the air, Tyrande explained, "Then, my sisters and I joined the fight. I can assure you that Lord Krasus and Malfurion left the battlefield uninjured."

With a sigh, Lord Ravencrest fell back in his chair and grabbed a flask of wine. After guzzling nearly half its contents, he commanded, "Tell me what happened."

Tyrande hesitated, but when she saw that Jarod and Eliana had entered the tent, she faced Lord Ravencrest again. According to her retelling, Malfurion and Krasus had taken off for the woods without letting anyone else know, escaping Jarod's watch. Tyrande had spoken to a refugee who had been attacked in the forest as they ran from Zin-Azshari. By his account, Tyrande had figured out that the demons' assassins were in hiding, and that Malfurion and the elder mage were in grave danger of being attacked. She and whatever nearby priestesses she could gather gave chase and were successful in saving the pair. It was then that they took off to find . . . dragons?

Eliana raised her eyebrow at that, and Illidan met her gaze across the room with an equally doubtful expression. If their people had no desire to work with outsiders—aside from the surprising handful that were already with them—why had Lord Krasus believed the dragons would be worth searching for?

After a quick consultation with Rhonin, Lord Ravencrest stared at the two new additions to the party. "Captain Shadowsong . . ."

Beside her, Jarod swallowed so loud that she could hear it. With a light sheen of sweat on his brow, he stepped forth. "Yes, my lord."

"I originally wished to punish you for losing track of your charge, but the more I hear about what's going on, the more I realize it may have been an impossible feat from the beginning. The fact that you've managed to keep them alive this long is . . . impressive. Continue doing so, provided you actually have someone to watch."

Jarod stared at his commander with a shocked expression. Eventually, he started and saluted Lord Ravencrest. "Yes, my lord! Of course, my lord!"

If Eliana didn't know any better, she could've sworn Lord Ravencrest rolled his eyes. With a long, exasperated sigh, he waved his hand at the group. "You are all dismissed. I need a breather from . . . _spellcasters_." He breathed the word as if he were speaking of poison.

Illidan, taken aback at being included in this dismissal, stood frozen for a moment until he finally offered a stiff bow. Together, the entire group trekked back outside to the encampment. Eliana veered to the left, thinking Tyrande would join her, but when she turned back, she realized that her fellow priestess had been stopped by Illidan.

When she just stood there, staring back at them, feeling hurt that he hadn't even acknowledged her aside from that quick glance inside the tent, Cytheas placed his hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Eliana. Let's give them a bit of privacy, hm?"

"I—Yes, you're right." She let him lead her to the side of the nearest tent, where he sank down onto a lone crate that rested on the ground.

Neither one of them said anything, and Eliana hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was trying to catch as much as possible of Tyrande and Illidan's conversation. She didn't have to concentrate long, for a few seconds later, their raised voices carried through the air. It sounded like they were arguing about Malfurion.

Tyrande's voice snapped through the air like a whip. "Illidan! Recall yourself!"

The other side of the tent fell silent, the air pregnant with tension. Eliana glanced over at Cytheas when Illidan never replied, and her friend shrugged and mouthed, "No idea."

A few seconds later, it was Illidan's voice that raised to an uncomfortable sharpness. "What a fool I have been! I hope that you and _Malfurion_ —" Eliana could practically hear the sneer in his voice. "—will be very happy together . . . _if_ we survive!"

Shortly after, his stomps faded into the distance. Eliana's heart felt like lead in her chest. She knew that Illidan still loved Tyrande, they'd discussed as much that nothing had changed in that regard. But to hear him say it to her again, like this, hurt more than ever before. It had been foolish of her to think that confessing her feelings to him would change anything, and she'd known that from the start. But she'd always been ever hopeful that perhaps, just maybe, he would start to see her, too.

Eliana supposed they were indeed both fools, then.

The two of them were constantly back and forth, she and Illidan. One minute he was telling her that he cared about her as well. The next, he was spilling his heart to Tyrande again, all thoughts of her forgotten. In addition to that, every time she and Cytheas so much as looked at one another, he seemed consumed by envy. What in the world was she supposed to make of all that?

Her heart also ached for her friend. While she wished that it was she herself that Illidan cared for so passionately, she knew that Tyrande struggled with the challenge of choosing a mate just as much. She cared for both Illidan and Malfurion, that much was clear. But it was equally obvious to all who saw them which brother it was that she wished to spend eternity with as a mate. There was no easy way to break the news to Illidan, and it seemed as if the sorcerer had pushed for the truth on his own terms. On top of _all_ that, they were fighting to survive.

Who was she to comfort? The man she loved more than anything else? The friend she cherished as her own blood sister?

Or her own shattered heart?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Arenoptara for beta-reading for me :)
> 
> Also, huge thank you to Diannak, Ella, alice131, Elunara, and Torez for leaving comments! I absolutely love talking to you guys, and hearing what you thought about a chapter is so great :D
> 
> See you guys next time!


	19. Chapter 19

Silence fell after Illidan's departure, thickening the already present tension in the air around Eliana. All she could manage to do was take a deep breath, and her gaze remained locked on the dirt beneath her boots. When her vision clouded and swam with unshed tears, she angrily swiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

She was fed up with crying over matters of the heart.

Cytheas' warm hand settled on her shoulder, his touch light and gentle. After taking another deep breath, she straightened and looked up into his eyes. His brows were furrowed in concern, but he didn't say anything to her about what they'd overheard. What could he say? He knew better than anyone else exactly how she was feeling right at that very moment.

Unable to form a coherent sentence—or at least, one that would convince Cytheas that she was fine—she held his gaze as she placed her hand over his. A slight nod was all she could manage, but it seemed that was enough for him. He returned the gesture and retracted his hand, looking back over his shoulder in the direction that Illidan had gone.

A few moments later, he faced her again. "We should return to the main part of the camp."

Again, Eliana nodded in agreement. Without another word, the pair headed back into the depths of the encampment. Rays of deep gold and burnt orange filtered through the space between tents, enveloping them in a surprisingly comforting warmth. Their people were at their strongest during the darkest hours of the night, but Lord Ravencrest had pushed them to gain ground during the day as well. After prolonged exposure to the daylight hours, Eliana found herself more fond of the sun than she'd been before. Unfortunately, the beauty of nature did little to ease her tender heart.

This particular section of the forest was still blessedly untouched by the demons, and as the sun continued to sink, the forest gradually came alive with the sounds of nature. The chirping of insects filled the early evening air, and Eliana glanced about them as they walked. Though the familiar sight was a comfort, she knew with heartbreaking certainty that it would not remain this way for long; anything the demons touched withered and died, tainted by their twisted, foul presence.

It seemed like there was little to be happy about in the world now.

When they reached the center of the camp, Cytheas faced Eliana. "You should try and get some rest. We'll likely be moving out soon."

"What about Malfurion and Lord Krasus? They still have not returned."

He shook his head. "I'm not sure the commander plans on waiting for them to return . . . You should take advantage of every opportunity to rest—it will come in handy later. You saw how long we rode for this last time."

Slowly, she nodded. "You're right. I just . . ." She trailed off, breaking eye contact to stare at the ground. It was torture, and she knew that, but she couldn't help but wonder where Illidan had wandered off to, how he was handling Tyrande's rejection. From the past times that the two of them hadn't been in agreement, she couldn't imagine he was handling it well.

But, this time around, comforting him would only bring grief to herself. Perhaps it was time to stop trying to be his friend and simply accept things for what they were.

As always, Cytheas seemed to know where her thoughts had drifted. With a slight sigh, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

For a moment, she almost said yes. Being alone meant being overwhelmed by her thoughts, her worries, and mostly her insecurities. However, something made her hesitate at the last second, and she shook her head. If she wasn't willing to torture _herself_ , she wouldn't hurt Cytheas by visibly pining after another male. Not all over again.

A few seconds passed before Cytheas pulled away. He leaned down to peer into her eyes, his own narrowing in suspicion. "Are you sure?"

Though she wasn't in the best of moods, the corners of her lips quirked upwards. "I'm positive, Cyth, but thank you," she replied in a quiet voice.

After squeezing her shoulder in reassurance, he nodded. "Then I'll see you tomorrow. Promise me you'll try and actually get some rest."

"Didn't I say that I would?"

"Yes, but I know you. You'll probably lay awake all night, staring up at the moon or something."

The tiniest of chuckles escaped her. "I promise to rest."

"Good," he said. "I—" He broke off, hesitating for the briefest of moments before he finished with, "I'm sorry about what happened, Eliana."

Her smile faltered, and her mood quickly sobered once more. All she could offer was another nod, which Cytheas returned before he finally—albeit reluctantly—walked away. As soon as he disappeared from her sight, she headed towards the section of camp where all of the priestesses had settled. In a time such as this one, perhaps Elune could soothe her when no one else could.

As she wandered through the camp with a heavy heart, and a newfound numbness, her eyes remained locked on the dirt below her feet. The pain had subsided little since she'd overheard Illidan's confession, and it didn't seem like that would be changing anytime soon. Unbeknownst to her, her steps gradually slowed as she approached the priestesses' pale, silver tents, until she came to a stop.

Lethargically, she raised her head and her eyes locked on the crescent moon that topped the High Priestess' tent. The last of the sun's rays, right before it dipped below Mount Hyjal in the distance, glinted off the decorative jewels on the surface of the moon. An errant ray of reflection shone straight into Eliana's eye, and she shielded her face with her forearm.

Was this a sign? Was Elune telling her that this was not where she should be?

After lowering her arm, Eliana looked back up at the decorative moon with cinched brows. A moment of hesitation kept her gaze locked on the symbol of her people, of her faith, but eventually, she turned away from the tents. Her mind raced, thoughts assailing her from all directions. With a frustrated shake of her head, she glanced to the side and noticed that the treeline wasn't too far past the encampment.

Filled with the sudden urge to walk among nature, Eliana beelined for the trees. Perhaps she would be able to feel Mother Moon's presence more in a familiar environment than in a camp that was erected by the pressing call of war. That, and being as far away from where Illidan was sounded like the best solution to calm her thoughts.

Right before she moved into the forest, a soldier dressed in full armor popped out from amongst the leaves. Eliana's hand flew to the hilt of her dagger at her side, but when she realized it was one of her own people, she sighed in relief.

"Apologies, Priestess. I did not mean to startle you," the soldier said by way of a greeting. "I'm sorry, but per Lord Ravencrest's orders, I'm not to allow anyone to leave the camp."

Eliana frowned. "I will not go far."

"I am sure that is true. Regardless, the commander wishes for everyone to stay within the camp. We cannot guarantee that you will be safe in the depths of the forest. The Burning Legion is never far behind us."

"I understand that, but . . ." She dropped her gaze before locking eyes with the soldier once more. "It is difficult to feel Elune's presence within the camp. I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit . . . discouraged. I simply need a quiet place to collect my thoughts. I won't go far, I promise."

The soldier hesitated, glancing over his shoulder before looking back at Eliana. She could sense his ambivalence, and she understood why he was hesitant. If he prevented a Priestess from feeling Elune's presence, that could ripple down through the soldiers and affect them as well. However, he also had his orders, and disobeying them brought consequences.

"Would this be an acceptable compromise?" Eliana asked, stepping towards the soldier. "I promise I won't go beyond those trees there—" She pointed just over his shoulder. "—and you'll be able to see me at all times."

He followed her finger, and turned back to her with a satisfied nod. "That would be fine. But please, Priestess . . . no farther."

Eliana crossed her arm over her chest, placing her palm over her heart. "On the Mother Moon, no farther." As she brushed past him, she placed her hand on his arm. "Thank you."

Seemingly embarrassed, he dropped his gaze and his cheeks darkened. "It—It's no trouble."

With a tiny smile, Eliana let her arm fall and she moved into the trees. The farther she walked, the quieter the world around her became. The hustle and bustle from the camp eased off into silence as the sounds of nature grew. Every step she took allowed a little bit of tension to leave her, and by the time she sat down on a fallen log—within sight of the sentry, as she'd promised—she felt much more relaxed.

A sigh escaped her as she tilted her head back, peering at the moon through the canopy of leaves above her. Why did it always seem as if her life was an endless, tumultuous journey? It stretched on seemingly forever, like the vast expanse of the star-filled sky that surrounded the moon on all sides.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she chastised herself for being so selfish. It was true that she still didn't know whether her father was alive or dead, and yes, it hurt beyond words hearing Illidan affirm something she already knew, but both of those things paled in comparison to the threat against her people. Suddenly, she felt juvenile and disgusted with herself. She was a Priestess of Elune, someone who was supposed to remain strong and faithful, to inspire her people to continue believing in something. Yet here she was, wallowing in her own losses.

With a scoff, Eliana rose to her feet, intent on returning to the camp. She'd barely turned a quarter of the way around when the sound of someone brushing through the leaves—rather quickly, too—came from her right. Again, her hand flew to her weapon. A moment later, to her surprise, it was Illidan that came bursting out of the trees.

When he saw her, his amber eyes widened in surprise, and she let go of her dagger. "It seems both you and Malfurion enjoy surprising people by appearing out of the forest," she deadpanned. Normally, her words might have been taken in jest, but her flat tone implied otherwise.

As such, he rocked back on his heels with a neutral expression. "I . . . didn't realize there was anyone else in the forest. I didn't mean to startle you."

"That's what they all say." Eliana straightened and turned away from Illidan, trekking back towards where the sentry stood.

She took her time, hoping that he would say something, despite the chances being slim. When a moment passed and he still hadn't said anything, she let out a quiet sigh and picked up the pace.

Not a second later, Illidan called out, "Eliana, wait," as he tromped through the underbrush after her.

Surprised, she halted in place and slowly faced him once more. She watched him walk towards her without a word, fighting to keep her expression blank. Her face seemed to be torn over whether it wanted to look extremely happy at the fact that he'd called out to her, or whether it was time for her to burst into tears over the whole situation.

Finally, he stood just in front of her. "I—It's been some time since I've seen you."

Eliana shrugged. "This morning. Not so long ago." _I saw you a few minutes ago, but you didn't see me. Funny, and terribly sad, how some things never change._

Illidan's expression was somber when he replied, "In times of war, a few hours seems like eons."

"I suppose that's true," Eliana mumbled as she lowered her eyes.

Silence fell between them, and when Eliana looked back up at Illidan, he was looking off to the side, his mouth set into a thin line. On any other day, in any other situation, she might have asked him what was wrong, but this time was different. She _knew_ what was wrong, she just didn't think she could handle hearing him speak about Tyrande. Not now.

So instead, she clasped her hands in front of her and stared straight ahead at his chest. In the past, having him stand so close to her might have left her feeling lightheaded, swooning like a young female. Right now, she only felt numb. Her vision faded out of focus as she absentmindedly traced the stitching of his leather jerkin with her eyes, lost in thought.

When he next spoke, the sound of his voice startled her out of her reverie. She glanced up at him, unable to recall what he'd just said, though she'd heard the low murmur of his voice.

"I'm sorry, I must have been miles away. What did you say?"

Though his expression was tight—clearly he was still upset about Tyrande—the corner of his lips quirked upwards. "I asked if everything was all right."

"Oh . . . yes, everything is fine. Why?"

"You seem . . ." He trailed off, his eyes narrowed as he inspected her face. "Sad."

An appropriately sad smile graced her face. "There is much to be sad about, Illidan. I suppose I can't help it."

"Did you learn something about your father?"

She looked up at him again, sharply. "No, did you?"

Illidan shook his head. "I apologize, I didn't mean to make you think I had. I only thought that . . . if you looked this sad, something must have happened to make you so. I thought perhaps you'd received bad news."

"No. Some say that no news is good news, but . . . when it comes to my father, I'm beginning to think that's not true," she replied in a quiet voice.

Gently, he touched her upper arm. "I'm sorry, Eliana. We will find him."

"You can't promise that." His touch was overwhelming and she took a step back, away from him. Normally his touch would set her afire, but now it only felt . . . pitying. It was a reminder that she would always be his second choice, even if he put Tyrande's refusal behind him. His expression darkened at her avoidance of his touch, but he didn't say anything further.

Overcome with another wave of sadness, Eliana shook her head. After tearing her gaze away, she said, "I'm sorry, Illidan, I must go. I only came out here for some peace and quiet so I could meditate, but it didn't seem to work. I—I must rejoin my sisters."

When she moved to walk away, he reached out and grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in mid-turn. "Please, Eliana, wait."

She didn't look back at him, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. "Illidan, I—I cannot be near you right now. Please, let me go."

"What have I done to offend you so?" he asked, his voice quiet. He didn't sound upset, but by now, she knew him well enough to recognize that his ire simmered just beneath the surface.

Reluctantly, she planted both feet and Illidan let go of her shoulder. She turned back and met his gaze, brows drawn together. "Do you really not know? Is it of such little importance to you that you don't understand?"

At first, his face remained scrunched in confusion. Eliana saw the moment it dawned on him; the grooves in his forehead smoothed out and he looked surprisingly ashamed. "You overheard us," he said, more of a statement than a question.

A nod from her was all he received by way of a response. He let out a deep sigh before he stroked the strong lines of his chin and looked away from her. When a few more seconds passed and he still hadn't replied, Eliana turned, intending on walking away from him again.

She'd only made it a few steps before his voice chased after her.

"I'm sorry, Eliana."

Against her wishes, her body responded to the sound of his voice and she paused, though she didn't turn around. His steps brushed aside the leaves on the forest floor as he approached her. When he stood just behind her—which she knew because she could feel the waves of heat emanating from him—he reached up and cupped her shoulders with his hands. The warmth radiated through her body, and she fought to suppress her body's responding shudder. Even when he'd broken her heart, she still wanted him, and she hated herself for that.

"I never meant for you to hear that conversation," he said, his voice deep, and as rough as the coarse dirt of the forest floor.

"I didn't think you did," she replied quietly.

"I never meant to hurt you."

"I know, but it doesn't change the fact that . . . you did."

"Eliana," he protested, turning her around to face him. "How do I fix this? I don't wish for you to be upset, not with me."

With tears pooling in her eyes, she looked up at him. They held each other's gaze for a few tense seconds, until she said, "I'm not sure that you can."

Seemingly frustrated, he dropped his hands and took a small step back. "I've never hid how I felt about Tyrande. You knew that better than most."

"I did, and I never said that I blame you. I don't. I blame myself," Eliana replied, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"For what?" Illidan asked, sounding exasperated.

"For letting myself think I had a chance. For letting myself enjoy every touch and every kiss that you gave me, when I knew how you felt about her. I was a fool, and I've only now come to understand just how much of one I have been." Equally as frustrated, she swiped the tears from her face.

This time, he stepped forward again. "You are not a fool, Eliana. It is true that . . . that I love Tyrande—" Eliana cringed. "—but I have told you that I feel something for you as well."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked bitterly.

"Perhaps not, but it is the truth."

"And your supposed feelings for me are meant to render your feelings for Tyrande unimportant? No longer true? What am I to do with that knowledge, Illidan, when I see you choose her, time and time again, over me?" Eliana took a step towards him, holding her hands out imploringly. "How long am I to wait for you to love _me_ as you love her?"

The question rendered Illidan speechless, and he dropped his gaze to the ground. Disappointed that she'd let herself be swept up in her emotions, Eliana let out a shaky exhale as she moved away from him. The parallel between she and Illidan was not lost on her, and she almost laughed at the irony. Or at least, she would have if she hadn't been so upset.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to . . ." She trailed off and turned away from him, looking back towards the camp. "I have to return now. Be safe, Illidan." She'd meant it in the same way she'd meant all of the other entreaties she'd asked of him, but this time it felt strangely like a goodbye.

As she walked away from him, another tear escaped, but she let this one fall. It seemed fitting, and she knew that she couldn't hold it in forever. She'd tried that, and it hadn't worked in her favor then. She doubted it would now.

When she was nearly at the forest's edge, the sound of quick footsteps approached her from behind. Confused because she knew it could only be Illidan, she turned back around with cinched brows.

Before she could ask him what was the matter, he was in front of her with his hands cradling her face, tilting it up to meet his as he bent down to kiss her. A gasp escaped her as his lips pressed fiercely against hers, and the sound was swallowed whole by him. Though she knew she should pull away, that she shouldn't give in to him whenever he tried to control a situation by doing this exact thing, she simply couldn't. She knew that the best thing for her to do was to walk away from Illidan, in every sense of the meaning, but she knew she never could.

He would call, and she would come running.

Her eyes slid shut, allowing one final tear to leave its prison as she reached up to place her hand on his cheek. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to her lower abdomen. Without warning, he pushed her back and they moved in tandem until she hit the rough bark of a tree.

He slid his arm behind her neck, protecting her head from the trunk while simultaneously keeping her in his embrace. After what felt like ages had passed, he pulled away, though instead of straightening, he traced kisses along her jaw. When his tongue snaked out and swirled along the skin just underneath her earlobe, she threw her head back against his arm.

"Illidan," Eliana gasped, sliding her fingers into his hair. It would likely ruin his ponytail, but he didn't seem to care at the moment.

When he didn't respond, and moved to capture her lips once more, she pulled away as much as she could in the close quarters. "Illidan, wait."

Just before he pressed his lips to hers, he paused. "Why?"

"I—Can you step back for a moment?" she asked, breathless.

He lowered his brows, but acquiesced, keeping her in the space between his arms. Now that he was standing some distance away, her head felt less foggy, and she finally was able to string together words.

"Why did you do that?"

Illidan frowned. "Did you not enjoy it?"

"That wasn't my point; I enjoyed it immensely. But . . . I thought I just made it clear that I didn't wish to be your second choice," Eliana replied, her voice soft.

Illidan let out a long sigh, before stepping back completely and rising to his full height. "You did, and that's not why I did it."

"Then why?"

He looked away from her, back towards camp. "There is little I can do to make you not feel like you were my second choice. Inevitably, that will always be how it seems. But when I saw you walking away from me, and when I went over what you had said in the moments before, I—I didn't know what else to do."

Eliana cinched her brows in confusion. "I do not understand."

"You had made it sound like, once you walked away, that was the last I would see of you. That from that moment on, I could no longer hold you if I wished to, nor could I kiss you if I wished to. I don't wish to lose that—to lose _you_ , Eliana. I can't. Losing the ability to call you mine was not something I could live with."

Though her heart soared at his words, her mind ever-so-kindly reminded her that though he might say these things, his actions spoke louder. "So am I to wait for you to let go of Tyrande? Is that what you're asking of me?"

"No," Illidan said sharply with a shake of his head. "Well . . . perhaps. Regardless of how I might still feel, Tyrande has made her wishes _very_ clear."

"And that leaves us where?"

"I know it makes you feel like I am choosing you second, and again, there is little I can do to help you feel otherwise. But . . . I couldn't let you simply walk away. Not when you are the only person who seems to think I'm worth something, worth believing in."

Eliana watched him, waiting for him to speak again. Briefly, he glanced away before meeting her gaze once more.

"What I am asking is _still_ unfair to you. I'm asking you to be patient with me. It will take time for me to move on; I have loved Tyrande for . . . as long as I can remember. But I never anticipated caring for anyone else, and I _do_ care for you. It will take time, but . . . if it is something you still want—if _I_ am who you still want—I do not want you to give up on me." He looked down at her expectantly, before muttering, "I would like to see what the future brings, provided we survive this damned war."

A chuckle escaped Eliana before she could stop it, and Illidan smiled ever-so-slightly at her reaction. Then, their expressions sobered and she remembered that he was waiting for her to respond.

That same part of her mind that had been telling her to be wary was still setting off alarms, but she told herself that Illidan had always been honest with her. From the beginning, as he'd said, he had always been clear about his feelings. She had no reason not to believe him this time. Still, it didn't stop her from feeling reticent.

Tentatively, she raised her eyes and met his. "I want to say yes . . ."

Illidan reached down and cupped her cheek. "Then say yes."

"I-I'm not sure that I should. I'm afraid that . . . that every time Tyrande looks your way, or if she so much as hints at having feelings for you—"

"That time is done, I promise you that. Today has taught me that there is little hope in that endeavor." He still sounded bitter, but he at least seemed less angry than when it had first happened.

"Perhaps that is true, but . . ." Eliana trailed off, lowering her gaze. "I don't want you to feel like I am turning you down, but I—I need time, Illidan. Time to decide if that is truly what is best."

Though his expression darkened again, he nodded. "Very well. I suppose that is fair."

"Thank you for understanding," she said, cradling his cheek.

He hesitated for a moment, before leaning down and planting a chaste kiss on her lips. "Come, let's return to camp before the sentry comes to find _us_."

* * *

 The next morning, as per Cytheas' prediction, Lord Ravencrest ordered everyone to ride out before the sun had fully risen. With drooping eyelids and lethargic motions, the entire battalion and all of the refugees saddled up and prepared to travel. Because the demons had pushed them back to Mount Hyjal, there was nowhere else for them to go in that direction. So, per the commander's orders, they rode south once more.

Eliana faced forward, hoping that the land around Mount Hyjal would remain untouched by the Burning Legion. Even if the demons razed the entire continent, she prayed that this sacred place would remain pure and whole. Beside her rode Tyrande, who was staring ahead with grim determination in her eyes. The young female that Eliana had seen with her friend a couple of days ago was just on the other side of Tyrande, though her expression was a bit more reticent. The young one had seen violence, likely just as much as them, but she didn't have as much experience as Tyrande and it reflected in her wide eyes. Every move Tyrande made, the young female mirrored with awe.

Eliana smothered an amused smile and kept her eyes on the backs of the soldiers who were ahead of them. Lord Ravencrest was difficult to miss on the front lines, what with his multi-colored plumage rising high in the air, and she knew that Cytheas, Illidan, Rhonin, and Broxigar would be close to the commander. Lord Krasus and Malfurion never returned to join the troops, and Eliana suspected that much of Tyrande's silence was due to Malfurion's absence.

When the herd of soldiers and refugees rode past Black Rook Hold again, this time heading in the opposite direction, Eliana looked over at Tyrande in question. Her friend shook her head, seemingly just as confused as Eliana was. They rushed past the Hold, sticking close to the main dirt path that wound its way through the remnants of the once-lush forest.

Not long after, as they were almost to Suramar, a short, sharp blare from the commander's horn had Eliana sitting straighter in her saddle; it had been the horn of warning. Before the herd could slow to a halt, multiple felhounds leaped out of the treeline and whizzed past the priestesses. One had flown so close to Eliana, she could smell the foul stench of its breath. She and Tyrande pulled back on their reins hard, and their mounts reared up before skidding to a stop.

Quickly, she dismounted, daggers in hand before her feet even hit the ground. Worried for Kal'Shalla, she tapped her nightsaber's hindquarters, indicating that she wished for her to take shelter in the woods. With a slight growl, Kal'Shalla shifted behind Eliana and turned around to face the trees, guarding Eliana's flank. Gratitude spread through her, but she didn't have time to dwell on it.

The closest felhound rounded on them with saliva dripping from its sharpened teeth, and the ends of its tentacles puckered in anticipation. Priestesses of Elune were nothing in comparison to a true sorcerer, but they still held magical energy, and the felhound wanted it.

It pounced, and Eliana rolled under its tentacle and off to the side, dragging the serrated edge of her dagger against the beast's side. On the opposite side of the beast, Tyrande pushed her charge out of the way before nocking an arrow and aiming for the creature's eye. When it faced Tyrande, Eliana threw her other dagger at the felhound to get its attention, buying her fellow priestess enough time to shoot. Her dagger met its target—the base of the felhound's tentacle—and the tip of the blade embedded itself into the monster's hide.

The felhound screeched in pain, turning on Eliana once again, the spines on its back twitching in anger. Tyrande used the given opportunity to loose her arrow. True to her aim, the arrow speared the felhound's left eye, and it collapsed onto its knees, its screech increasing in volume.

To both Eliana and Tyrande's surprise, her charge raced past Tyrande, grabbing the blade from Tyrande's hip. She sprinted towards the felhound, diving into a slide and slicing up and under its chin as she flew past. Its putrid, viscous blood rained down on the dirt below and it teetered on its hooves, on the verge of death. Kal'Shalla raced forward, and after letting out a guttural roar, clamped her fangs down on the felhound's neck. With a jerk of the saber's head, the felhound went immobile and collapsed onto the ground.

Tyrande's charge rose to her feet, exuberant from her kill. With anger twisting her features, Tyrande stomped over to her and tore the blade from her charge's hand. "Shandris, I ordered you to stay out of the way! Don't ever do that again! You could've been killed!"

Instantly, Shandris' expression fell. "But I—I killed it _for_ you! I only wanted to prove myself, and—"

"This is not the place nor the time to do such reckless things," Tyrande scolded.

Before they could continue their argument, another horn blared and the three of them turned towards the front of the company. Eliana studied the front line, trying to see what was going on, but to no avail. All she could glean was that they were fighting in rotating waves again, trying to give the soldiers their much needed respite so that they could continue to push forward.

"We can't fight here long," Eliana noted as she faced Tyrande again. "We're too in the open, and the trees only provide cover for the demons, not for us. We've been herded into a trap."

Tyrande nodded in agreement. "You're right. But if we can't push the demons back, we'll never make it past Suramar."

Before Eliana could reply, High Priestess Dehjana sprinted up to them on her mount, hair flying behind her. "Tyrande, I need you to spread out your team and protect the refugees from the demons coming in through the trees." Her gaze flickered to the felhound's corpse just behind them, and she added, "I see you've already done so."

Tyrande stepped up and bowed, placing her palm over her heart. "We were ambushed, High Priestess, but we've managed."

"Out of the sisters I assigned to you earlier, how many remain alive?" the High Priestess demanded.

Tyrande glanced over her shoulder, doing a quick head count. "Seven, High Priestess."

After nodding, though her expression was grim, Dehjana instructed, "Three on each side, one to protect the flank. Lord Ravencrest and his soldiers are trying to push the demons back enough so that we can reach Suramar. We need to survive until then."

Tyrande nodded, bowing once more, and the High Priestess turned towards Eliana. "Priestess Starhelm, Lord Ravencrest has demanded your presence at the front lines."

Astounded, Eliana reeled back. Recalling herself, she quickly bowed to the High Priestess before saying, "I do not understand, High Priestess. Why would I be needed there more than I am here, with my fellow sisters?"

"I was not privy to that information." High Priestess Dehjana faced Tyrande once more. "Elune guide you, Tyrande. Quickly, Priestess Starhelm! We need to ride back to the front!"

Eliana nodded, swiftly hopping onto Kal'Shalla and giving Tyrande one last look. Her friend nodded as well, and their mutual plea for one another to remain safe was heard. With a shout, Eliana flicked Kal'Shalla's reins and rode after the High Priestess towards the front lines.

As they rode through the throng, Eliana saw far more casualties than she had hoped for, and her chest tightened. Death was inevitable in war, she'd seen that firsthand, and yet it seemed like more and more of her people were dying in droves. And for what? Briefly, she squeezed her eyes shut, sending a quick prayer to Elune for the souls of the dead. Ahead of her, High Priestess Dehjana was equally silent, and she was likely doing the exact same thing.

Minutes later, they approached the ornamented, violet banner of Lord Ravencrest. Up here, the sounds of battle were far more prominent than they had been where the other priestesses were. The twang of metal against metal, and also against flesh, rang out through the air. The cries of the soldiers, both fueled by anger and filled with pain, were interspersed with the hale of war.

The High Priestess' mount skidded to a halt and she hurriedly dismounted. Eliana followed suit, rushing after Dehjana towards the commander himself. Lord Ravencrest was barking orders to his captains, who quickly rushed off down the hill towards the battlefield itself. When Dehjana and Eliana approached, he turned and his expression cooled, falling into the role of leader versus commander.

"High Priestess Dehjana," he greeted with a slight incline of his head. "I see you've brought me Eliana, as requested."

"Indeed. Now I must return and aid my own warriors. Elune guide you, Lord Ravencrest," the High Priestess said, before facing Eliana. "Be safe out there, Priestess Starhelm. We cannot afford to lose any more of our sisters."

Eliana nodded, her expression grim. "May Elune guide you, High Priestess."

"And you," the High Priestess replied, before hopping onto her mount and racing off in the direction they'd come from.

When she was out of sight, Eliana faced Lord Ravencrest, bowing in greeting. He nodded at her, and explained, "I requested your presence because I thought you might be a valuable addition to the scouting party."

"Scouting party, my lord?"

"Indeed. Cytheas and Captain Shadowsong are leading a small troop into the plains to see how far the demons' force stretches along our forest. We need to know how many demons we are dealing with in order to form a plan. I wish for you to join them—to heal and aid in the fighting if needed, but mostly for morale. The soldiers will feel more motivated with you among them."

Eliana bowed again. "I am honored you thought of me, Lord Ravencrest."

He waved her reverence aside and that was when Cytheas approached from below the hill, ichorous demon's blood smeared across his forehead. When he saw Eliana, he started, and then his expression tightened. He bowed to Lord Ravencrest, keeping his expression professional and detached.

"You called for me, commander?"

"Yes. You and Captain Shadowsong are to leave immediately and head towards Suramar. Find out how many of these monsters we're dealing with," Lord Ravencrest instructed, before striding off to the opposite end of the front line.

Once he was out of earshot, Cytheas whirled on Eliana. "What are you _doing_ up here?"

"High Priestess Dehjana brought me when Lord Ravencrest requested my presence. Apparently, I'm to join you on this scouting expedition."

"What?" Cytheas exclaimed.

Eliana shrugged. "I'm to aid you with healing and offense if needed, but he was worried about morale."

Incredulous, he stared down at her with a tense expression. "Risking your life for _morale_. Ridiculous."

"Are you really going to question your commander?" Eliana asked, raising her eyebrow at Cytheas.

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean I can't disagree with his decision." Cytheas swiped his forearm across his forehead, transferring the blood onto his arm. "Let's go get Jarod and head out. The sooner we find out what we're dealing with, the better."

Together, they made their way through the troops until they found Jarod towards the outer edge of the battalion. Beside him stood Brox and Rhonin, and Eliana was filled with relief to see them both alive. They too greeted her with equal fervor.

Jarod nodded at Cytheas. "We're ready when you are."

Jarod had brought Il'hadras for Cytheas, and after a quick greeting to the sabercat from Eliana, Cytheas hopped into the saddle. The rest of their small contingent followed suit, mounting up in quick succession. When Brox and Rhonin also mounted up, Cytheas looked over at them in question.

Rhonin inclined his head and said, "We've volunteered to join you. Brox and I have seen more than we wish of the Burning Legion, and hope that our expertise may come in handy."

Jarod nodded as he said, "I didn't see anything wrong with being prepared."

Cytheas guided his mount to ride beside Jarod, gesturing for Eliana to follow. "Neither do I. Let's go."

Much to her chagrin, Eliana found herself searching their small party for Illidan. When she didn't see him, she lowered her eyes to her reins in disappointment. It was silly to have hoped for him to show; he was far too important to Lord Ravencrest for the commander to send him off on a simple scouting expedition. Still, she'd hoped to have at least spoken to him before they set out.

Beside her, Cytheas leaned over and nudged her with his elbow. She looked up at him and he jerked his head back towards the battlefield. "If you're wondering where he is, he's up at the front lines with the commander. He won't be coming along."

"Oh, no, I—I wasn't—" she stammered, embarrassed at having been caught.

With a wry grin, Cytheas flicked his reins. "Of _course_ you weren't," he muttered, low enough so that only she could hear, before racing forward.

Annoyed, she followed after him, and their small party diverged from the main army. Suramar wasn't far—perhaps only a few miles south of their location—but much of the land between them and the city was scattered with ruined foliage and destroyed settlements. There was much to sift through, and they had to avoid detection by the Burning Legion at the same time.

A few minutes into their ride, Jarod lifted his hand, indicating for the group to come to a halt. Once they'd stopped, Cytheas ambled up to him. "What is it?"

With his mouth set in a thin, tight line, Jarod jerked his chin in the direction of the field below them. The entire plain was covered with an unnaturally thick, sickly green fog. It curled around every tree husk, and coated the hills that were once alive and thriving with nature's benevolence. Eliana's stomach clenched at the nightmarish sight, and from the look of disgust and fear on the soldiers' faces, they felt the same.

Cytheas gripped his reins tightly, his knuckles pale. "What have they done?" he murmured.

In a terse, grim voice, Rhonin said, "The Burning Legion destroys everything that they touch. They pillage, they burn, they eradicate. That is what they're trying to do now, as they've done before to so many others. The fog shouldn't harm us, but it won't make our task any easier."

Brox's grip tightened on his own reins, and Eliana surmised with sadness that that must've been what the orc had experienced. Was there no end to this barbaric quest of the demons? Would her people fall to the same fate of Brox's people?

Cytheas turned away from Rhonin, staring at the dark shadow of Suramar's ramparts off in the distance. "We will not allow them to win. We _cannot_."

A moment of tense silence passed before Jarod flicked his reins, moving his mount forward and down the hill. "No, we can't. Let's ride."

Together, the small band of soldiers, and Eliana, descended into the fel fog, heading for Suramar. She could only hope and pray to Elune that they would return unscathed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, thank you to Arenoptara as always for beta-reading <3
> 
> Next, I know I'm always saying this, but I'm sorry for how long it took to get this chapter out. I had the first half written like two weeks ago and struggled to find the time to finish the second half; this semester has been insane. By far the biggest struggle of this chapter was writing Illidan during his and Eliana's conversation in the forest. I had to keep him the slightly selfish, brash Illidan that we all know and love, but also try to fit him in the post-Tyrande refusal/pre-Eliana focus, sans demon influence, and hopefully he didn't come across as _too_ sappy.
> 
> Last, thank you SO much to every single one of you who have been leaving comments. I love speaking to my readers about stuff and seeing you guys interact with one another is so much fun. I think this story is either the one with the most comments or the second-most comments out of all of my stories, so I can't even begin to put into words how grateful I am that people even care about my writing <3 So we'll just leave it at: thank you so very much.
> 
> See you guys next time!


	20. Chapter 20

The group traveled in silence, wading through the dense, sickly green fog with trepidation. The once-lively plains before Suramar were now unnaturally quiet, filled only with the sound of multiple pairs of boots shuffling against the dirt. Occasionally, Jarod would gesture to his scouts to monitor their sides, ensuring that they all remained vigilant. 

This may have once been their home, but the arrival of the Burning Legion had changed everything.

As they shuffled across the desolate plains, Eliana glanced from side to side, her bow ready in her hands. For once, she opted to use the long-range weapon in place of her daggers; she had no desire to wait until an enemy was upon her to act. A few feet later, as she was swinging her head from one side to the other, a dark, gnarled shadow emerged from the mist. She jumped in surprise, ready to let loose an arrow, until she realized it was only the remnants of a once-great tree.

Her heart sank at the sight, and she slowly lowered her bow back down. They’d come so far into the plains that they’d reached a former settlement, and the evidence of how much the demons had destroyed thus far both angered her and left her feeling despondent. So much culture eradicated—culture that had existed for eons until now; so much destruction, so many lives lost . . . and all they could do was fight back, fight to survive. In the beginning, she’d thought that it would be enough—her hope and undying faith. Now that it felt like they’d been fighting for years, even though she knew it had only been a few short weeks, exhaustion was threatening to overtake her. She now worried that she had little hope left for her people, though she’d never voice that aloud.

The rest of the troop had continued on without her as she’d fallen into her thoughts, and she scurried to catch up with the rest of the party. Cytheas was waiting for her at the tail end of the group, standing beside Il’hadras, and when he saw the expression on her face, he frowned.

“What’s wrong, Eliana?” 

A quiet sigh escaped her, and she shook her head. “I know that our people have lost much to the demons, but to be reminded of it time and time again . . . It is difficult.”

An equally morose expression overtook his face. “I know,” he murmured, lifting his arm in an invitation.

In a comfortable, familiar motion, she tucked herself into his side, grateful for his presence and warmth. Though things had been strained between them not so long ago, she thanked Elune that he was still alive and here with her now. She could only hope and pray that the rest of their friends were still alive as well.

A few minutes after they’d mounted up again, the scouting party reached the edges of the settlement’s remains. The fog was thicker here, likely due to the plethora of bodies littering the ground before them. Both demons and elves alike had perished, and Jarod glanced around with a grim expression from atop his nightsaber.

“Spread out, but make sure you stay within sight,” he instructed, his hands tight around his saber’s reins. “And keep your beasts under control.”

As if on cue, Kal’Shalla shifted beneath Eliana, likely feeling anxious at their surroundings. Most of the sabers had become antsy the moment they’d descended into the plains, and it seemed like the closer they got to Suramar, the worse they became. 

They rode farther into the settlement, and Eliana’s stomach churned at what they found. So many bodies covered the streets—streets once clean and filled with laughing young, with smiling elves and the scent of freshly baked moonberry pies. Those welcoming, everyday sensations had now been replaced by the oppressive, acrid scent of death. Even worse, a large majority of the bodies were mutilated. Some were missing a limb, others more than one. 

Eliana stopped keeping track of how many were missing heads when she could no longer count them on both hands. 

The rest of the group seemed to be feeling just as unsettled. Occasionally, a fellow soldier would grumble to himself, and a few of them made the sign of the Mother Moon, brows furrowed as they stared at the bodies of their brethren. 

After what felt like ages, they reached the outer edge of Suramar. The view before them elicited a strange juxtaposition of emotions. It was horrible seeing their home like this—a broken, shattered shell of what it had once been. On the other hand, a surprising portion of the city still stood whole; it appeared that the Burning Legion had not had time to ravage the city entirely.

A small surge of hope flared within Eliana, though she knew that it would take more than that to rebuild. If they could survive this war,  _ win  _ it, perhaps they  _ could _ still start anew.

Silent and furtive, the scouting party ambled through the remnants of the city’s outskirts. It was much the same as before: most of the buildings were destroyed, with the occasional home still intact. Eventually, the group reached the main gates and they passed through the archway, wary of what they might find ahead. Up at the front of their unit, Jarod glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes flitting from one soldier to the next. His countenance was tight, grim; Eliana’s own expression was much the same, and she imagined the rest of the party shared the sentiment.

It was upsetting to no longer be able to trust the place you once called home. 

Every corner had the potential to conceal an enemy, each broken doorway they passed was a reminder of what they had lost. Occasionally, a building that looked completely untouched by the ravages of war would emerge from the mist. Upon Jarod’s command, one or two of the soldiers would search the premises, hoping to find survivors—or  _ some  _ evidence of survivors having come through. Time and time again they searched, but none were ever there.

Nearly an hour into their search, they reached a divergence in the path: one of the colossal trees that had held a residence had toppled over, and the debris was now scattered across the ground, blocking their advance. Despite the fact that Jarod had instructed them to stay together, there was no way their entire group could stick to the same path and get through in a timely manner; much of their allotted time had already passed by.

With a frustrated sigh, Jarod maneuvered his saber around to address the group. “We’ve no other choice from the looks of things. You three—” He pointed to the soldiers in the left flank. “Head down that path and meet up with us at the other end.”

The soldiers in question nodded, and rode off down the path to Eliana’s right. Jarod leaned over and spoke with Master Rhonin in low, hushed tones, shaking his head in disagreement to something the flame-haired sorcerer suggested. 

Despite the obvious discord between him and Rhonin, Jarod straightened and looked over at Cytheas. “Cytheas, you, Eliana, and these four will head down that path,” he explained, pointing at the soldiers behind Cytheas and Eliana. “Master Rhonin, Broxigar, and I will continue down this center path, along with the remaining soldiers.”

Cytheas nodded. Before the group separated, Rhonin looked over at Cytheas and Eliana with an intense gaze. “We leave now. Keep together, and avoid going into any homes you are unsure about. You’ll have to loop around the wreckage, but we should meet up once more as soon as the route allows.”

Again, they nodded in agreement, and without another word, the flame-haired sorcerer led the way down the center path with Jarod and Broxigar in tow. Cytheas steered his mount towards their intended path, and he, Eliana, and the four soldiers assigned to them made their way down the path to their left. 

Their landscape now was no different from what they’d just left behind. Skeletons of grandiose, once-blooming homes loomed before them, and the ground was interspersed with the corpses of the demons and their own people. Their path held less prospects than the main one had; the vast majority of the buildings on this end of town were broken shells of their former selves, not giving their small group any hope of finding survivors in the slightest. 

With the third failed attempt at searching a home for supplies or survivors, Cytheas let out a deep sigh. It was so uncharacteristic of him, that Eliana looked over at him with cinched brows. She studied his dejected expression for a moment, before quietly saying, “I know it is difficult, Cyth, but you cannot lose hope.”

“How can you say that, Eliana?” he asked, looking over at her with dull eyes. “How could you possibly still retain hope after seeing all this? Our home, destroyed; our friends, our neighbors, gone— _ dead _ .”

Though she herself had been feeling discouraged, she straightened her shoulders. Determined to convince him otherwise, Eliana turned Kal’Shalla so she could look straight at Cytheas. “Because I know that, whatever the cause of this is, whatever reason the Burning Legion has come to Azeroth, no matter what, we can’t have been abandoned. Cenarius still walks among us—Malfurion’s powers are proof of that. Elune has not forgotten us, and every single one of my sisters and I are proof of that. We  _ cannot _ lose faith—not now, not yet.”

Behind her, the other soldiers mumbled their agreement, making the sign of the Mother Moon over their chests. Cytheas looked over her shoulder at them with a neutral expression, and let out another sigh. He looked away for a moment, studying the facade of the empty home they’d just searched before meeting her gaze again. The corner of his lips twitched upwards, and he offered a slow nod.

“You’re right. What would I do without your never-ending optimism, Eli?” he murmured.

With a teasing, hopeful smile, she replied, “Be worse for the wear, certainly.” When he chuckled, even though it wasn’t nearly as cheerful as she hoped it would be, she rode closer and nudged him on the arm. “Let’s keep going, hm?”

He nodded his assent, and their small group continued on. After what felt like eons later, their path wound back around to the center of town. Unconsciously, they all urged their mounts to ride faster, anxious to be reunited with the rest of the party. When they turned around the last bend and saw Jarod, Rhonin, and Broxigar waiting in the center of the path, Cytheas raised his arm in a wave, which Jarod eagerly returned.

Once they were standing across from each other, Jarod greeted them with, “What did you find?” 

A frown on his face, Cytheas answered, “Nothing. More bodies, more ruined homes, but nothing of note.”

“Damn,” Jarod swore under his breath. “Our search was much the same."

Eliana glanced about them, worry easing its way into her expression. “Where are the remaining soldiers?”

Jarod looked over at her, shaking his head slowly. “They’ve not arrived yet.”

Unease filtered its way down into Eliana’s stomach, leaving her unsettled. An unspoken pact materialized amongst the soldiers, and they all settled into their saddles, waiting for the three remaining soldiers to appear. At one point, Cytheas looked over at Eliana and caught her eye, his expression grim. Unable to stand the reality in his face, she quickly looked away, gripping Kal’Shalla’s reins as she stared down the path opposite her.

_ Oh, Elune . . . why were  _ we  _ so lucky? Why did we survive, and they did not? _ she prayed, hoping her question would be answered, though she knew it would not be.

Minutes passed, and Kal’Shalla shifted beneath her, anxious to be moving once more. From the low murmurs around her of the soldiers soothing their own mounts, it didn’t seem to be only hers that was feeling restless. In fact, it didn’t seem to be limited to the mounts at all. Jarod kept fiddling with his breastplate, Cytheas had been twisting his reins in his hands for the better part of the last ten minutes, and Broxigar kept reaching up to check his axe’s handle. 

Only Master Rhonin remained completely still, staring off in the direction of the third path. 

After another handful of minutes ticked by, Jarod’s mount shuffled forward and he raised his hand into the air, ready to command them. Before he could speak, Broxigar unexpectedly raced off down the path, brushing past Rhonin so quickly, the tails of the sorcerer’s cloak fluttered in the breeze. Caught off-guard, it took the rest of them a few seconds to realize what was happening, and then they all rushed after him.

Broxigar must have been urging his mount to ride faster than they’d expected, because they struggled to stay on his heels. The orc wound his way through the city, disappearing around the bends, out of sight, more than once. Judging from Jarod’s tense shoulders, and the continual shaking of the captain’s head, he was none-too-pleased with Broxigar’s rash actions.

Finally, the path straightened out and they saw Broxigar stopped up ahead. It appeared as if he was speaking to a figure before him, when, out of nowhere, his saber reared up and pawed the figure, sending it flying. Then, he turned and sped back in their direction, his axe held out to the side, ready to be used if the need arose.

Flabbergasted, Jarod greeted the orc with confusion. “W-What did you just do to him? He’s likely dead now, and—”

Brox interrupted him with a fierce growl. “Dead before! Hurry, more come!” he instructed, before darting back the way they’d come. 

As if he didn’t believe the orc, Jarod looked back down the path, staring off into the mist. Eliana frantically glanced around them, noting for the first time that the mist was significantly thicker here than it had been on  _ their  _ path, or even in the center of town. Worried, she looked back up at Jarod right when the captain gasped in shock and horror.

Farther down the path where Brox had been standing, multiple figures rose up from the ground. Their movements were jerky, unnatural, and once they stood erect, they shuffled forward towards the group, their limbs flailing like rag dolls. Jarod pulled his mount back a step, and his saber let out a low, menacing growl. The rest of the sabers joined in and the warning echoed around them. Still, the group did not move, and Jarod continued to watch the figures approach.

“Cytheas,” Eliana warned, clenching her reins. Cytheas glanced over at her, his brows furrowed and a hesitant look in his eyes, though he didn’t say anything before he looked ahead again.

It was then that the figures came into full-view, unobscured by the sickly green mist that had cloaked them before. Eliana sucked in a sharp breath once she saw who, or rather, what, they were: beings that had formerly been their brethren, but now with limbs torn off and abdomens split open, shambled towards them with empty, soulless eyes. 

Beside her, one of the soldiers muttered, “By Elune . . .”

Finally, at that, Jarod whirled around. “Go! We ride out of the city,  _ now _ !”

The rest of the group did not hesitate to obey. In unison, they turned back the way they came and rode swiftly down the path, racing desperately towards the main gates. Eliana’s heart beat wildly in her chest, terrified by what she’d seen. It wasn’t natural, that much she knew, and she thought she’d seen the worst of the Burning Legion’s ways.

How wrong she’d been. 

From behind her, a shrill, terrified scream rang out through the air, only to be cut short. She looked back over her shoulder; one of the soldiers had been yanked from his mount, and the last she saw of him were his arms falling through the air above him as he was swallowed by the horde. A shiver wracked her spine and she whipped back around in her saddle, palms coated with sweat. Jarod, too, had seen the soldier perish, and Rhonin was having difficulty convincing him to continue on. 

Finally, with a grimace, Jarod faced forward again, and the group rode faster. A minute or so later, when it appeared that they would never lose the horde behind them, Master Rhonin veered away from the group with Broxigar in tow, circling around to the back of the party. Concerned, Eliana called out to them, but Jarod slowed down to ride beside her, shaking his head fervently.

“Master Rhonin has offered to buy us time! We must continue on!” he shouted.

“But—” she started to protest, but Jarod cut her off.

“We will wait for them at the city’s gates! We will not return without them, I promise, Priestess!”

Alleviated, but only just, Eliana reluctantly nodded in consent. Jarod returned to the front of the group, and she glanced over her shoulder one last time, watching Rhonin and Broxigar ride to meet the undead throng behind them. Soon enough, the two of them disappeared behind the bend, and the rest of the group rode on towards the outskirts.

A few minutes later, they flew under the archway marking the city’s exit. They slowed to a halt, and Jarod circled around to face the group. With a heaving chest, he dismounted, shaking his head to himself as if in disbelief.

The rest of them followed suit, taking the rare opportunity to rest and regain their senses. Most of the soldiers simply leaned on their sabers, who were also taking advantage of this brief respite, laying down upon the grass beneath them. Only Jarod continued to pace, anxiously watching the city’s gates. 

Eliana, too, stared in the same direction. Nervous, and filled with the need to keep her fingers busy, she unbound her braid and attempted to comb out the tangles so that she could redo it. She was in the midst of weaving the strands back together when her view was obscured by Cytheas’ chest. Surprised, she quickly glanced up at him, her fingers pausing.

“Are you doing okay?” he questioned, his eyes flitting to her hands.

_ Of course he can tell when I’m nervous _ , she chastised herself. Quickly, she finished her braid, and after tossing it over her shoulder, she offered him a tight smile she knew he wouldn’t be fooled by. 

“I’m fine,” she murmured. “Just worried.”

With narrowed eyes, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Eliana . . .”

She huffed. “I’m  _ fine _ , Cytheas. If I was not, I would tell you, I promise. I’m just . . . I am worried that they stayed behind, potentially sacrificing themselves for our sake; I am worried by what I saw; I—” She cut herself off, closing her eyes in an attempt to calm herself. Once her breathing was steady once more, she quietly admitted, “I am worried about the things that may come to pass.”

With a slow shake of his head, Cytheas said, “I have always known you to have faith, Eliana. In fact, I would count you amongst the most unyielding. This is unlike you—giving up hope.”

“I am not giving up hope,” she retorted, twisting her fingers. “I am just—we’ve seen things today that I never thought were possible. Those who have perished have risen again,  _ demons _ have invaded our lands . . . sometimes I wish Elune would answer my prayers and simply tell me what is happening.”

“We will find a way through this, Eliana.” He stepped forward, grasping her hands in his. His touch was warm, reassuring, but it didn’t completely erase the tight ball in the pit of her stomach. “Us, our brethren—we  _ will _ survive this.”

With a smile she could hardly muster the energy for, she nodded at Cytheas. It seemed like her earlier pep talk had served its purpose, and now  _ he _ was the one trying to uplift her spirits. After saying he needed to go speak to Jarod, he ambled off towards his fellow captain, leaving her standing beside their mounts. She watched him go for a bit, before turning and absentmindedly running her fingers through Kal’Shalla’s downy fur, earning her a low purr. 

Minutes ticked past with no activity on the main path. Cytheas didn’t return either, wrapped in a conversation with Jarod that Eliana had no desire to be a part of. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested, or was averse to hearing it, she simply . . . didn’t have the energy. A quiet sigh escaped her, and as she lowered herself to the ground, Kal’Shalla followed suit; her saber was capable of sensing her mood, it seemed. 

She supposed that wasn’t too strange, considering all they’d been through together thus far.

They both hit the ground, and Eliana rested her back against Kal’Shalla’s side. Off in the distance, Jarod was waving his arms through the air to emphasize whatever point he was making, and Cytheas was shaking his head in response. Her vision was unfocused, blurry, as she watched them out of habit rather than true interest. Exhaustion, both physical and mental, wore on her, and she wondered if there would ever be any respite from all of this.

It was true that, by this point, she’d seen enough of the effects of war to last her her indefinite lifetime. However, seeing the bodies in Suramar today seemed to increase her despair tenfold. In battle, the bodies of your fellow soldiers and priestesses falling beside you was something you noted, but didn’t— _ couldn’t _ —dwell on. Seeing the bodies of innocent elves who had clearly tried to flee for their lives, sprawled upon the streets of  _ her _ city, beside their young, had been entirely different. 

As her eyes slid shut, exhaustion finally overtaking her, she wondered if there truly  _ was _ anything left to hope for.

* * *

 

Eliana awoke to the feeling of someone shaking her, and softly calling out her name. When she cracked her eyes open, Cytheas’ face, though blurry, was only inches from her own. She blinked furiously, trying to force her vision back into full capacity. Once he realized she was alert, he rocked back on his heels and straightened.

“I am sorry to wake you, Eliana. I know you must be exhausted.”

Reaching up to brush back an errant strand of hair that had fallen into her face, Eliana shook her head and rose to her feet. “It is fine. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, anyway. What is it? Is something wrong?” she asked, looking up at Cytheas with cinched brows.

Cytheas held out his hands, and explained, “No, quite the opposite. Master Rhonin and Broxigar have returned. We’re preparing to ride back to camp.”

“Oh, thank Elune,” she breathed, making the symbol of the Mother Moon over her chest. 

Quickly, the two of them mounted up and joined the rest of the party on the main path. When Rhonin made eye contact with Eliana, she offered him a relieved nod, which he returned with a strained smile; the sorcerer looked much worse for the wear. Cytheas motioned to Jarod that they were ready, and without further preamble, they were racing back towards the encampment.

As they raced through the forest, concern flooded through Eliana. Over the course of the past few hours, only the safety of their immediate group—of she and Cytheas, of Master Rhonin and Broxigar—had been on her mind. There had been only the here and now, and if she let herself be swept away by her concern for the entirety of their people, she wouldn’t have survived this excursion. But now that they were returning to the camp, concern for those who had not joined them was now at the forefront of her mind.

Had Malfurion and Master Krasus returned yet? How was Tyrande holding up? And, most importantly of all, how was Illidan? 

It seemed juvenile and silly to be wondering such things when they were in the midst of a war. She wondered if he was still thinking about Tyrande, and what had happened between the two of them. She wondered if he’d then thought about  _ their _ last conversation at all, the one they’d had before she’d left with the scouting party. 

And yet, even though she knew it was pointless to wonder these things with so many other pressing matters at hand, she couldn’t help herself from thinking them all the same. 

Sooner than she’d anticipated, the familiar sight of tents lining the horizon rose up ahead of them. Their party raced through the even rows, sending soldiers ducking out of the way as they beelined for Lord Ravencrest’s tent towards the back of the encampment. Once they had arrived, they quickly dismounted, and Master Rhonin, Broxigar, and Jarod wasted no time, pushing through the opening flap and heading into the tent itself.

Cytheas moved to follow them, but turned around at the last second and looked back at Eliana. “You likely don’t need to be here for this, Eli. If you want to go check in with the High Priestess and Tyrande, you can.”

Grateful, Eliana nodded. She rarely said much at these meetings, and truly, it should be High Priestess Dehjana who was present for them, not herself. “I will do that, then. Let me know if anything changes.”

With a nod and a quick, one-armed hug, Cytheas left her and headed inside the commander’s tent as well. Eliana watched him go until the flap fell, concealing him from her view, and then she pivoted on her heel and headed towards the other end of the camp. Now that they were back in familiar—or at least,  _ safe _ and familiar—territory, the rapid beating of her heart calmed enough for her to take deep, even breaths. It had been terrifying, seeing Suramar as they had, but being back amongst the remainder of her people filled her with relief.

Up ahead, the sight of the semi-translucent, silver tents of her fellow priestesses set her heart alight. Her steps quickened and she hurried towards the High Priestess’s tent, anxious to inform her of what they’d seen in what remained of their home. As soon as she stood outside the High Priestess’ tent, she took a deep breath, focusing on schooling her countenance and anxiety. 

A few seconds later, in a quiet, respectful voice, she called out, “It is Eliana, High Priestess. May I enter?”

“Come in,” Dehjana replied from within, her voice muffled.

Eliana moved the tent flap aside and brushed past, letting it fall behind her. To her surprise, Tyrande was standing beside the High Priestess, a frown marring her normally beautiful face. When she saw Eliana, the lines in her forehead smoothed out and she broke out into a smile.

“Eliana! Thank Elune you have returned safely!” Tyrande cried out, darting across the room to envelope her in a tight hug.

Equally as relieved, and warmed by her friend’s reaction, Eliana reached up and returned the embrace. “I am glad to see you as well, Tyrande.”

“Tell us what happened in Suramar. Did you find anything?” Tyrande prompted. 

High Priestess Dehjana stepped around the small table in the center of the tent, her flowy, elegant robes fluttering through the air behind her. Eliana was surprised to see her out of her battle armor. “Yes, priestess, what did you see?”

With a world-weary sigh, Eliana sank down on top of a crate that was resting beside the entrance. She related the occurrences of their expedition, hesitating when she spoke of the sorcery they’d witnessed as their fallen brethren had risen once more. The High Priestess and Tyrande had mirroring expressions of horror when they heard her tale.

When she finished, the High Priestess began pacing around the tent, looking shaken. “Raising the dead . . . I had thought it impossible, and yet, the Burning Legion does it with no qualms or apparent difficulties. Just  _ what _ exactly are we fighting against?”

With a fierce shake of her head, Tyrande said, “There is no doubt that they  _ are _ the demons they appear as, High Priestess. That is the only explanation for this.”

Eliana watched the High Priestess as she paced, her mouth pressed into a thin line. A few minutes passed before she asked, “Have Lord Krasus and Malfurion returned yet? I am certain that Lord Krasus would know how the demons are doing this—or at the very least,  _ why _ .”

Tyrande looked over at her with a grim expression on her face. “No, they have not.”

Crestfallen for both her friend and the prospects of their success, Eliana dropped her gaze to the floor. There was nothing more that could be said about that, as it was obvious to all what it meant to be lacking Lord Krasus’ assistance in the upcoming battles. They needed his power, his wisdom and knowledge, his  _ guidance _ , and Lord Ravencrest was likely not happy about the mage’s absence as well. 

High Priestess Dehjana finally halted in the center of the tent, her hands braced against the table. “Eliana, I thank you for informing us of your findings. You may return to your tent now, and as difficult as it may be, I ask that you try to get some rest before we inevitably ride on.”

Eliana rose to her feet, dipping into a deep bow once she stood. “Thank you, High Priestess. I will do exactly that.”

Tyrande squeezed her upper arm with a gentle smile. “I will come find you later, Sister. Rest—you deserve it.”

Eliana returned the gesture before heading back outside. With another sigh, she stretched upwards, trying to ease the stiff muscles in her back. Planning on taking the advice of the High Priestess, she turned and moved to circle around the tent and head back to her own. She’d only taken a few steps when a figure dashed out from around one of the other tents, nearly knocking her over. 

She let out a startled cry  as she stumbled back, and the person caught her around the waist, pulling her back upright. When she looked up at them, ready to admonish them for running with seemingly no abandon, she was even more startled when she realized that it was Illidan.

Before she could say anything, he scowled something fierce and demanded, “How could you not tell me that you were leaving the camp? Especially for a  _ scouting _ expedition? Those are  _ dangerous _ , Eliana, and—”

With an equally fierce glower, Eliana propped her hands on her hips and interrupted him. “And this is  _ war _ , Illidan. Everything we do now, everywhere we go, is riddled with potential danger. There is no escaping that. I did what I had to.”

At first, it looked like he was about to retort, but at the last second, he closed his mouth with a snap. His frown petered out into a slight grimace, and he met her gaze with weary eyes. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to shout at you, I just—with my brother still gone, and the events of the past few days, I . . . reacted rather strongly.”

Her irritation subsided at his words. Illidan had never been one to outright apologize—for  _ anything— _ but she at least knew him well enough to recognize his words for what they were. She offered a reassuring smile, and he looked away, seemingly embarrassed at being seen through completely.

“I appreciate your concern,” she said quietly.

His response was a scoff, but not one of derision. It also hadn’t seemed as if he’d been directing it at her, but more so at himself. When he finally looked back at her, he murmured, “As if I couldn’t worry.”

Her heart soared at his words, and the tiny smile that had been present on her face widened. When he saw her expression, he too smiled, and like fools, they sat there in the middle of the pathway, staring into each other’s eyes with matching grins. 

A loud horn sounded from the other end of the camp, causing Eliana to jump in surprise. To his credit, Illidan only looked slightly startled, and he glanced over his shoulder in the direction the sound came from. 

When he faced Eliana again, he explained, “That’s likely the call to move out.”

“So soon?”

Illidan sighed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I spoke to Lord Ravencrest not long ago—that’s how I knew you’d returned. He was anxious to leave, even then. In fact, I’m surprised it took him this long to sound the horn.”

Though she knew it was inevitable, she couldn’t help but feel discouraged. Would their people ever find a place that was safe? Away from the demons’ reach? 

Cradling her elbow with her right hand, Eliana slowly nodded. Together, they walked away from the High Priestess’ tent and towards where the mounts were stationed. Though she didn’t miss the way Illidan’s gaze lingered on the tent as they left, she decided not to mention it. Illidan would bring it up himself if he wished to speak about it.

They walked in silence for the first little bit. Illidan kept his gaze trained on the ground, while Eliana kept sneaking surreptitious glances at him.  _ Should _ she bring up their earlier talk? Or should she remain quiet and let him be the first to speak? 

By the time they were halfway to their destination, the tension between them was palpable. A few seconds later, Eliana decided she’d reached her limit and paused on the path, ready to speak up. To her surprise, Illidan turned at the same time and met her gaze, lips already forming the words he was about to say. When he saw that she too was going to speak, he closed his mouth with a snap.

“I didn’t realize that you—”

Eliana waved her hand in the air, embarrassed. “It is fine. You can go first.”

He hesitated, but eventually nodded. “All right . . . I just wanted to—I had a question for you, though it’s a bit unconventional.”

“An unconventional question? Those are the best ones,” she replied with a wry smile. 

A chuckle escaped him and he motioned for them to continue walking, though at a much slower pace than before. “During your scouting party, did you . . . did you see anything unusual? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Eliana cinched her brows. “Aside from the large mass of dead bodies and copious amounts of debris, you mean?”

“Yes,” Illidan hastily replied, sounding a bit frustrated. “Aside from all that.”

Again, Eliana came to a stop. When Illidan followed suit and stared down at her, she reached up, gently placing her hand on his forearm. Firmly, though not unkindly, she said, “If there is something specific you want to know, Illidan, ask it.”

His handsome features pinched, and he appeared hesitant to voice his thoughts. Eventually, he took a deep breath and met her gaze. “Lord Ravencrest mentioned that . . . you and the party had seen . . . unnatural things in Suramar. Things like . . . the reanimation of corpses.”

Immediately, a shudder wracked Eliana’s body, traveling up the length of her spine. Looking away from Illidan, she studied the clumps of dirt beneath her feet. “ . . . Yes, we did.”

The amber glow of his eyes intensified. “Truly? How did it work? Did you see it up close?”

There was quite a bit of excitement in his voice, which worried Eliana, and she looked up at him with a frown. “I did not. Broxigar and Master Rhonin would be the ones you should speak to about that. I only witnessed the product of the demons’ efforts, not how they went about it. And even if I had, I’m not sure I’d . . . be able to tell you what I saw; I know little about the mechanics of true sorcery.”

Illidan’s countenance fell ever-so-slightly, and they continued on towards their mounts. Silence filled the air between them, mostly because Illidan appeared to be completely engrossed by his thoughts. Eliana watched him out of the corner of her eye, still concerned about the topic of his questions.

It had never been a secret that Illidan was ambitious, and he had more than enough curiosity to fuel those ambitions. Though it was likely that he simply wondered  _ how _ the demons had successfully carried out something so atrocious as raising the dead, she was worried that his focus would remain on such morbid things for longer than it should. 

Quietly, Eliana asked, “Illidan . . . you don’t mean to try to do the same, do you?”

Seemingly caught off-guard, Illidan started, and faced her head-on. “Of  _ course  _ not. Why would you think that?”

She too paused, wringing her hands anxiously. “It’s just—I know how curious you can get. I’m assuming that you are asking about what we saw because it’s quite the display of power on the Burning Legion’s part, but . . . but it isn’t the right  _ kind _ of power, Illidan. Power like that can never be used for good reasons, and—”

He let out a light sigh and placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing his thumbs along her skin. “I know why you are concerned, Eliana—you don’t need to be. Yes, doing something like raising the dead takes  _ immense _ amounts of power, and it means that the Burning Legion has more magical prowess than we anticipated. But . . . I wanted to know for our people’s sake. If  _ they  _ can harness their energy in such ways, what more could  _ we _ do? How could we try to fight back equally as hard, if in less macabre ways?”

Eliana stared into Illidan’s eyes—eyes that were so incredibly bright, so hopeful, and  _ so  _ beautiful—desperately wanting to believe what he’d said. She wanted to trust him without fail, but their history had taught her that there was often more to Illidan’s words and actions—hidden meanings that she had to work out, even if that hadn’t been his intent. 

Eventually, she nodded, and he squeezed her shoulders before pulling away. They continued on their way, and a few minutes later, they finally reached the mounts. It seemed as if the rest of the soldiers were nearly finished packing up the camp. On the other side of the main unit, the Priestesses of Elune were folding up their tents and placing them in the back of their storage wagon. Up towards the front of the ranks, near the opulent banner that marked Lord Ravencrest’s position, Eliana spotted Cytheas, Jarod, Master Rhonin, and Broxigar standing beside the commander himself. 

Cytheas glanced over in their direction, and when he saw them standing side-by-side, it seemed like he scowled briefly before schooling his expression and raising his hand in a wave. He was standing too far away for Eliana to know for sure whether he had, but she raised her hand as well, opting to smile instead. When she lowered her arm, Cytheas turned back to Lord Ravencrest.

Beside her, Illidan cleared his throat, prompting her to face him. He gestured over his shoulder to where the rest of the leaders were and said, “I should go join them.”

“I should join my sisters as well,” Eliana said, nodding in agreement.

For the third time that day, they stared into each other’s eyes, reluctant to part ways. Eliana let a smile slowly grace her face. Illidan mirrored her expression, taking a hesitant step backwards with his arms held behind him. Eliana took that as a sign and pivoted on her heel, finally making her way towards where her fellow priestesses waited.

She’d only made it a few steps before she heard him coming up behind her. Surprised, she turned back around just in time for his arms to wrap around her, pulling her flush against his body. Her cheeks darkened, and she slowly wound her arms around his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. The warmth emanating from him seemed to seep into her very being, and she let her eyes slide shut as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Was it so wrong to let herself enjoy this? Even if she knew there was still so much to figure out between the two of them?

In her ear, he murmured, “I should have done this earlier.”

She let out a quiet chuckle. “Yes, you should have.” 

He leaned back, and she let her arms fall from his neck. As he cradled her cheek in his hand, he said, “Be careful, Eliana. I expect to see you alive and completely unscathed the next time we make camp.”

“The same goes for you,” she replied with a knowing quirk of her brow.

His smile widened, and finally, he let go of her completely. With one final nod, he turned around and headed towards Lord Ravencrest, off in the distance. Unwilling to turn away from him just yet, she watched him as he walked away—watched the wide expanse of his shoulders shift with every step he stook, watched the long strands of his ponytail sway from side to side. 

A quiet, yet insistent voice at the back of her mind piped up, reminding her that she  _ needed  _ to worry about Illidan. Though their earlier discussion hadn’t gone far, she knew that he wouldn’t drop the subject until he found the information he was looking for. Not only was Illidan incredibly attuned to all things magical, but his strong desire for success constantly propelled him forward; if there was a higher goal to reach, Illidan would try. 

Many would consider his ambition a flaw. While it was one of the many things Eliana admired about him, she knew that, without rigid rules or guidelines to mark the necessary boundaries, Illidan would continue on unchecked. Powerful individuals with no limits, no matter who they were, were always dangerous. She couldn't bear to see anything happen to him, especially as a result of his own rashness. 

With a deep sigh, Eliana finally turned away from Illidan and headed towards her original destination. 

There was much to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of an abrupt end, but the next scene launches everyone back into the battlefield and if I wrote that now, this chapter would never end! I'm so sorry for how long it took to get this out. Between school, work, trying to sell our house and move into a new one, AND doing NaNo this year, free time has been few and far between. I've been working on this chapter for like two weeks -__-
> 
> As always, thanks to Arenoptara for beta-reading, and thanks to all of my readers for your amazing, never-ending patience <3


	21. Chapter 21

As always with times of war, moments of peace were few and far between. The company hadn't ridden far from Suramar before the Burning Legion caught up with them once again.

Hours of fighting ensued. Eliana, Tyrande, and the rest of their fellow priestesses were soon pushed back from their position near the front lines, no longer able to see Lord Ravencrest's banners from where they now fought. Tired, dejected, and losing morale, the Night Elven forces struggled to keep the demons at bay. As the fighting continued on, seemingly with no end in sight, the entire company was eventually pushed back to the plains surrounding Zin-Azshari.

* * *

Eliana's blade sliced clean through the delicate skin of a demon's neck, and the creature fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Exhausted, she brushed back loose strands of her hair that had plastered to her forehead, slick with sweat. With her chest heaving, she scanned the battlefield around her, searching for Tyrande who had been at her side only moments before.

A fierce cry rang out from her left, and when she faced the sound, she saw Tyrande leaping off her saber towards an Eredari. Tyrande drove the point of her blade into the juncture between its neck and shoulder, and it cried out a guttural, inhuman sound before collapsing to the ground. Eliana hurried over to her friend's side with Kal'Shalla on her heels, and Tyrande faced her when she neared; her fellow priestess' beautiful features were scrunched in concentration, fueled by adrenaline.

"Are you all right, Tyrande?" Eliana asked, slightly out of breath as she gently touched her friend's arm.

"I am fine. And you? Are you hurt at all, Eliana?"

Slowly, Eliana shook her head. "Physically, I am fine, but . . . we cannot keep fighting like this. There is only so much our troops, and we, can handle before we are spent."

Tyrande sighed, nodding slightly in agreement. "You are right. But what can we do? We've run from the demons in every direction, it feels like, and though we cannot fight forever, we also cannot run forever."

Her optimism fading fast, Eliana dropped her gaze to the ground. Before she had a chance to formulate a response, Shandris appeared at Tyrande's side, seemingly out of nowhere. Eliana shouldn't have been surprised at the young one's close proximity to her friend. Ever since they'd rescued her, Shandris hadn't been farther than a few steps from Tyrande, despite Tyrande's repeated pleas for the orphaned female to stay behind with the other refugees.

"Why don't we push for an offensive?" Shandris suggested, bouncing up on the balls of her feet.

Tyrande seemed to be fighting to hold back a sigh. "That would be highly imprudent. We are far too weak and exhausted to do that, _and_ be successful." Tyrande's face then quickly twisted into a scowl. "Shandris, I asked you to stay behind the front lines, and yet you disobey my request _again_. Please, go back!"

Shandris opened her mouth to retort, her brows cinching above her silver eyes, when she was interrupted by a quick, sharp whistle. High Priestess Dehjana, in an attempt to alleviate the stresses of battle, had ordered her priestesses to regularly switch formations. It was time for Tyrande and Eliana's group to step back, allowing the next group to return to the front.

None-too-gently, Tyrande grasped Shandris' upper arm and hoisted her into her saber's saddle. "Come. I'll escort you to the back of the group myself," she stated firmly, climbing up into the saddle as well. Without another word, the pair rode off for the back of the company.

Eliana mounted Kal'Shalla to follow after them, shaking her head in disapproval. War was dangerous, and so many of their kind had perished already. Tyrande was trying to help keep Shandris alive by ordering her to stay behind, and the young female refused to heed those orders. Though Eliana knew how difficult it was to simply sit and wait, it was one of the few things ensuring Shandris did not join the numerous dead.

On her way to the rear, Eliana heard the sonorous bellow of Lord Ravencrest's horn. It was a single, short blow, and she glanced over her shoulder in concern as she continued to ride. From where the priestesses now fought, it was impossible to know what the sound had meant, but she could only hope that it meant good news.

They were desperately in need of some.

She quickly reached her destination, but by the time she'd caught up with Tyrande, Shandris was already nowhere to be seen. Her friend was now speaking with another fellow priestess by the name of Marinda, and from the looks on their faces, the topic of the conversation didn't seem too cheerful.

Kal'Shalla's paws padded heavily against the earth, and when she approached the two females, they both turned in her direction. As she dismounted, Tyrande glanced in her direction, and Marinda offered a terse nod.

It may have been pessimistic to assume that something had gone wrong, simply judging by the expressions on their faces, but in times of war, it didn't seem as if good news normally followed such meetings like this one.

Without any preamble, Eliana asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Marinda hesitated, her gaze falling to the ground before she looked at Tyrande, seemingly for approval or reassurance. A few seconds passed, filled with tense silence, and Eliana anxiously shifted her weight onto her other foot as she waited for one of them to speak.

Finally, Tyrande met their fellow priestess' gaze, and briefly touched the other female's elbow. "It is all right, Sister Marinda. She needs to know."

That elicited a curt nod from Marinda. "It's High Priestess Dehjana."

"What has happened?" Eliana questioned, stepping closer to Marinda.

"She—She is dead."

Tyrande and Eliana gasped in unison, and Tyrande's hand flew up to cover her mouth. Shaking her head in disbelief, Eliana felt like her heart had sunk into her stomach. Unable to process the information, she pressed her palm against her abdomen and turned away from the other two, staring out at the battlefield below. As if she had floated out of her body, she watched bright flashes of magical energy explode across the plains, faintly heard the clashing of metal, the cries of her people as they died. From far away, she thought she could hear Lord Ravencrest's horn once more, though she was too stunned by the news to say for certain.

Now what were they to do?

Behind her, Tyrande sputtered, trying to form a coherent response. "I—How did . . . How did this happen?"

Marinda hesitated before replying, "During the last battle, she took a blade to the stomach."

"I don't understand. The High Priestess' abilities for healing far surpass my own. How could she—"

"A felbeast caught her before she could attempt anything, before anyone could get to her. By time they reached her, she was nearly dead. Our sisters managed to bring her back to her tent, where she died but an hour ago."

A surge of anger flared through Eliana, and she turned and asked, "How were we not informed?"

Marinda faced her, her expression grim. "The High Priestess had asked her attendants not to tell anyone. She didn't want us to lose hope."

Tyrande shook her head, her eyes squeezed shut. Marinda slowly pressed a closed fist to her heart, and Eliana moved to join them once more, placing her hand on Tyrande's shoulder to call her friend to attention. Together, the three of them kneeled, praying to Elune for the High Priestess' sake as well as saying their own, individual goodbyes. When they rose, Marinda spoke again.

"There is more, sisters. Before she passed, the High Priestess named a successor."

Both Eliana and Tyrande nodded. Naturally, each leader in a position of power had a successor in mind. If the times had been normal, peaceful, there might have been the opportunity to formally consider which of the candidates truly deserved to take on the mantle of High Priestess. With it being a time of war, that luxury did not exist. It made perfect sense that High Priestess Dehjana would have named a successor before her death.

When neither Eliana nor Tyrande said anything further, Marinda presumably took it as a sign to reveal their new High Priestess. After taking a deep breath, Marinda said, "She named you, Eliana."

Shocked, Eliana gasped, immediately covering her mouth with her hand to mask her surprise.

It was true that her mother had been High Priestess before Dehjana, though her tenure had been short due to her untimely passing. Despite that fact, she had held no illusions that _she_ would've been a candidate for the position. She'd only been a priestess for a short period of time, and before that, a novice for even shorter. The only reason she and Tyrande had been promoted to full priestess status was because of the war.

With a genuine smile on her face, Tyrande embraced Eliana. "Congratulations, sister. You deserve this more than anyone else I know."

Though Eliana returned the gesture, she did not respond, choosing instead to address Marinda. "But I don't understand. There are so many other sisters who are more qualified, who have been priestesses for far longer. Why me?"

Marinda smiled as well, clasping her hands in front of her. "That may be true, but even the senior sisters cannot deny your heritage. Your mother, though her time as High Priestess was brief, made many changes for the sisterhood that benefited us all. That, and it is impossible to deny your talent."

Overwhelmed, Eliana pulled back from Tyrande and began pacing in a small circle. "I just . . . there are—I have _so_ little experience."

"That means little," Marinda replied with a shrug. "You've done so much, and yet, you still have the strength to fight, too, Sister."

Eliana paused in mid-step, staring down at her hands in deep contemplation. Marinda took the opportunity to speak again. "Normally, as you both know, we would have a great ceremony to announce your ascension, Eliana. Elves from far and wide would have come to see you, speak to you, and receive blessings from you. Unfortunately, we will likely only be able to do something small, considering the situation. With your permission, I can pull the sisters from battle and—"

Looking aghast at the suggestion, Tyrande interrupted Marinda. "What? But they are in the midst of battle!"

Marinda, though she did not continue her previous train of thought, looked to Eliana for permission to speak. Eliana's cheeks darkened, and she then echoed Tyrande's sentiments. "No, our place is out there, helping our fellow soldiers and doing what we can to help. A ceremony will only distract everyone, and we cannot afford that right now. I will become High Priestess for now, for the duration of the war, but I cannot promise anything after this is all over."

Marinda frowned. "If that is what you wish. We can all reconvene afterwards to speak of this matter. I can bring the robes of state to you—"

Eliana shook her head fervently. "That won't be necessary. I cannot fight in robes, Sister. I will keep my present armor, and there will be no ceremony."

Though obviously reluctant, Marinda nodded in agreement to Eliana's words, and kneeled before the other female, palm against her heart. "Yes, Mistress."

Eliana let out an exasperated sigh, and when Tyrande went to follow Marinda's example, Eliana all but lunged for her friend. "Please! None of that. We are all equal, in heart and in faith to our Mother Moon. Please, don't kneel. Especially you, Tyrande."

Tyrande paused in mid-motion, until she slowly straightened once more. Though Eliana knew that protocol was important to all of their people, she couldn't stand to see her friend kneel before her.

Eliana gazed into Tyrande's eyes, imploring her to agree. Tyrande sighed, before she finally nodded. "Whatever you wish, Eliana."

"Thank you," Eliana breathed, relieved.

Marinda rose to her feet as well. "I will go inform the rest of the senior sisters of your decision, High Priestess. Elune be with you both."

They murmured the same blessing, before Marinda mounted her saber and raced off, deeper into the rear. The area they were standing in fell nearly silent—as silent as the rear guard could be during a large battle. From the front line, the sharp sound of Lord Ravencrest's horn blared in quick succession, prompting the two priestesses to face that direction.

"What in the world is going on up there?" Eliana murmured, more to herself than to Tyrande.

Tyrande stared off into the distance, her eyes unfocused. "I'm not sure," she mumbled, sounding uncertain. A few seconds later, she met Eliana's gaze. "Until we _do_ know . . . for now, I think we should help those who need it—heal, assist the refugees, until we know for certain what is going on on the front lines. It will be sooner than we think before we need to return to battle."

"I agree."

Tyrande smiled. "I am glad you think so, High Priestess."

Immediately, Eliana scowled. "I don't find this terribly amusing," she said under her breath, before hopping atop her mount.

"Still, despite the jest, it _is_ true. You are our High Priestess now, temporarily or permanently," Tyrande replied.

Her only response was a deep sigh.

Together, they headed for where the refugees had been positioned in the center of the rear. As they rode, pained groans from both soldiers and refugees alike filled the air, coloring the ever-present tension with morbid undertones of war. It seemed as if the steady stream of injuries would never end.

When they reached their destination, they dismounted and made their way towards a small gathering of wounded soldiers. Quietly, they announced their presence with murmured greetings, and the soldiers expressed their relief at seeing them, making the symbol of the Mother Moon over their chests.

Without further preamble, they started doing the temple's work. While Eliana could mend the minorest of wounds with few issues, Tyrande left a stream of successful, _full_ recoveries, behind her. It left her wondering why they hadn't named Tyrande the new High Priestess instead of herself. Tradition and heritage were important, yes, but wasn't doing the Mother Moon's work most effectively even more important?

Swept up by the tasks at hand, Eliana and Tyrande soon meandered away from one another. Each of them had their own long line of elves to heal.

Minutes passed, and then hours, before another loud horn bellowed from the front lines. Startled, Eliana glanced up from the injury she'd been tending to, her brows cinched tightly over her silver eyes. That horn could only mean one of two things: they were either being pushed back by the demons, or they had gained the upper hand over their relentless enemies.

Hoping it was the latter, Eliana quickly finished securing the bandage on her ward, before rising to her feet. Tyrande was sprinting over to her from the other side of the clearing with Shandris on her heels.

"Eliana! We should return to the front, see what's going on," Tyrande suggested, her expression grim.

Eliana nodded in agreement before glancing over at the young orphan. Shandris' eyes were alight with excitement. Though optimism was inherently a good thing, Eliana worried that the war would end up break the young one's spirit.

"Let's go," Eliana said, nodding to Tyrande.

Quickly, the three of them mounted up—Eliana on Kal'Shalla, and Tyrande and Shandris sharing a mount—and hurried back to the front lines.

When they got there, the majority of their fellow sisters were already awaiting their arrival. The second Eliana's boots hit the ground, the entire group shifted into a simultaneous bow, much to the new High Priestess' embarrassment.

"Please, none of that!" she exclaimed, flailing her hands through the air uselessly.

Marinda, the priestess from earlier, stepped forward. "We await your orders."

Eliana dropped her gaze to the ground, pressing her lips into a thin line. Being thrust into a position of power amidst the chaos of war was already overwhelming. Having to exert that power so quickly, and on demand, was even more stressful.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and said, "We should . . . We should separate into groups and assist along the front lines." When the priestesses shifted into position, she shuffled forward. "Wait! Not all of us. At least a-a third of us should remain in the back, and continue to provide support for the injured."

Beside her, Tyrande nodded in agreement, though she was one of the few who seemed to feel that way. A great majority of the sisters frowned, clearly wishing to be among the fighters. The apparent, collective discord, made Eliana briefly question her decision. She stepped forward even more, twisting her fingers in anxiety. After taking a deep breath, she spoke from her heart.

"Though I know many of you wish to be fighting, to actively protect our people from further harm. But remember this: there must always be a Sisterhood of Elune. The demons wish to wipe us from the face of this world, but we cannot let them. If we should all stand and fight—perhaps even _die_ —then who will be left to spread Elune's love?"

Her speech seemed to mollify those who had been discontent with her instructions. With a firm nod, now feeling reassured, she turned to Marinda. "I put you in charge of caring for the wounded, Marinda."

Marinda bowed. "Yes, High Priestess."

Eliana couldn't help but cringe ever-so-slightly at her new title. She fell silent, lost in thought. Was this the right course of action? It made little sense to her to send all of their sisters to the front line; she had meant what she'd said about preserving the sisterhood. If they were to all perish, what then? But the voice at the back of her mind, however tiny, still made her doubt her own words.

She could only hope this was truly the path that Elune meant for her daughters to take.

A few moments passed and when she still hadn't dismissed the priestesses, the sisters starting murmuring amongst themselves, confused by her silence.

She knew that, by protocol, she needed to name a successor, in case she were to perish. That was what High Priestess Dehjana had done, like so many others before her. It took little time for her to decide who would replace her. She could think of only one who deserved the title, even more than she herself had deserved it.

Finally, Eliana faced her fellow priestesses, her mouth set in a determined line. "If I am to perish in battle, I name Tyrande Whisperwind as my successor."

Their fellow priestesses gasped in shared surprise, and Tyrande stood frozen in place, her arms hanging limply at her sides. "Eliana, I—I am incredibly honored and flattered that you would choose me, but there are so many other sisters who are more experienced, as you've mentioned before. I think it would be in the Sisterhood's best interests if—"

Eliana shook her head, cutting Tyrande off. "I do recognize that, and I know there are more experienced priestesses than you _or_ I. But I can think of no one else when I ask myself who loves our Mother Moon as much as I do, or who lives and breathes the Sisterhood's best interests as you do."

Tyrande fell silent, her gaze unwavering as she stared into Eliana's eyes. Sensing her friend's hesitation, Eliana approached her and placed her hand on Tyrande's shoulder. "You deserve this as much as I do, Tyrande. If I am to fall, I wish for you to take on the mantle after me."

Though Eliana had no desire to perish in battle, this was war, and she knew there was a high possibility of it. No matter how careful she was, no matter how cautious she tried to stay, if Elune deemed that it was her time, then it was her time. The Sisterhood could not afford to be without a leader throughout all this, if the situation were to worsen.

The same train of thought seemed to be on Tyrande's face, for her expression was somber. Eventually, though, she nodded in agreement.

Eliana, too, nodded, before facing the rest of the sisters. "That . . . that is all I have to say. May the serene light of the Mother Moon illuminate your paths."

With the ancient farewell said, Eliana quickly delegated which groups would return to the front. Marinda was one of the temple's most prominent healers, and so Eliana left it up to the senior priestess to decide which of the remaining sisters she would take with her.

A collective moment of silence settled over the sisterhood before everyone began riding off to their assigned posts. She watched a few of the sisters leave, her shoulders hunched. Another silent prayer to Elune lifted her spirits only slightly, and after a few seconds, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves and self-doubt.

After squaring her shoulders, she faced the small group of priestesses that remained. "We will ride to the front lines with the other groups."

Collectively, the remaining priestesses nodded before mounting their sabers as well—most were the ones originally assigned to Tyrande by the former High Priestess a few days ago. When they were all mounted up, a quick movement caught Eliana's eye. She followed it, and realized that Shandris was mounting a saber just behind Tyrande, out of her friend's line of sight.

Quickly, Eliana cleared her throat, prompting Tyrande to glance over at her. With a subtle tilt of her head, Eliana gestured towards Shandris. Brows furrowed, Tyrande followed her friend's line of sight. When she saw Shandris, mounted up and ready to ride with them, her expression transformed into one of intense displeasure.

"Shandris, what are you doing?" Tyrande demanded.

Much like a child caught in the midst of misbehaving, Shandris jumped in her saddle before tilting her chin up in defiance. "I'm going with you!"

For what felt like the fifth time that day, Tyrande sighed. "No, you are not. The front lines are _dangerous_ , Shandris. I've told you this time and time again. I cannot risk you coming with us. You have to stay behind."

"I won't be in danger! My father taught me how to use a bow! I-I'm probably just as good with one as any of the others are!" Shandris retorted.

Eliana hid her amused smile with her hand, and a few other of the priestesses chuckled. One of them murmured, "That good, hm?"

Tyrande turned her mount around and sidled up to Shandris. Reaching over, she grasped the young female's hand. "Shandris, you stay here."

Shandris' face crumpled. "But—"

Seemingly desperate, Tyrande glanced to Eliana for assistance. Uncomfortable using her newfound authority, but knowing she'd have to sooner or later, Eliana cleared her throat and looked at Shandris with a stern expression. "Dismount, Shandris."

Shandris' lower lip trembled, and she dropped her gaze to her hands. She was gripping the reins of her mount so tightly, her knuckles had paled. Without a word, Shandris acquiesced, her boots hitting the dirt with a soft _whump_.

Looking relieved, Tyrande said, "I'll be back soon, Shandris. I promise. You remember where to wait?"

Shandris nodded, refusing to meet Tyrande's gaze. Eliana's heart went out to the orphan, but Tyrande was right: it was in Shandris' best interests for her to stay here, where it was safe. There was no guarantee that any of the priestesses could keep an eye on her, not in the throes of battle.

Eliana turned around once more, facing the front lines. A moment of silence fell over the group, all of them likely praying to Elune for safety.

_Please, Mother Moon. Guide my fellow sisters, and those I love:_ _Illidan, Cytheas . . . Father . . . wherever you may be, be safe._

Without further preamble, she whipped Kal'Shalla's reins. "Come, sisters. We ride!"

_Please let me do my sisters, and my mother, proud._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a bit shorter than I normally write, but there was a clear break between this section and the remainder of the battle so I decided to separate them as such. Also, as any who have read the novels knows, the battle section of the second book goes on for literally ages. I'm going to try and compress the scenes as much as possible because I'm as sick of writing battle scenes as much as I'm sure you're all tired of reading them. It never ends, I swear. Also, those who have read will recognize most of what happens to Eliana (becoming High Priestess, the dialogue) was actually meant for Tyrande. The twist later on down the road ends up setting things back to canon, so you'll see why ;)
> 
> Thanks to Arenoptara for beta-reading, as always : 3 Your input is so invaluable and puts my mind at ease.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is still reading and reviewing, and my mind is blown that there are so many followers now! I love every single one of you. Sorry it took so long! Now that I can see the end from here, I'm hoping the remainder of this installment writes easily :)
> 
> See you guys next time!


	22. Chapter 22

Much to Eliana's dismay, Lord Ravencrest's horn had indeed borne ill news. The entirety of the Sisterhood of Elune was thrown into the throngs of a battle that lasted days, which was more than any of them could handle at this point in the war. More and more demons poured from the crevices of the mountainside, swarming across the plains until the once-verdant blades were crushed and dead. They spewed from the dark, shadowy corners of the forest, like the streams that sprouted from Mount Hyjal with no end in sight. Many priestesses perished, as did the soldiers, but they had no other choice than to fight on if they wished to survive.

On the first day, unexpected allies joined the battle. Lost in the motions of dealing death, slicing and dicing in a way that had become nearly second nature to her, Eliana didn't notice the new arrivals until multiple shadows had slithered across the battlefield. The rhythmic sound of giant, flapping wings eclipsed the sounds of battle, and when she looked up, she'd nearly fallen over in shock.

Dragons had stretched across the sky, blocking out the sun entirely. Red, green, blue, and black; creatures thought to be entirely mythical had come to their aid. The joy and relief was short-lived, however. Not long after their arrival, the largest of the black flight had unleashed a devastating attack upon the demons, and then been attacked by one of the red flight.

Infighting amongst the dragons ensued, and the black and red dragon, entangled in one another, crashed down onto the battlefield. Most of the Night Elves had tried to scramble out of the way, but there had been a few who could not make it in time. Shortly after, the ground had trembled, swayed, and molten lava had burst through the earth, raining down on them from above.

The lava pushed back their forces from the plains, even closer to Zin-Azshari than before. Eliana had long since lost track of her loved ones. Though she knew that Illidan, Cytheas, and Tyrande were out there in the battle somewhere, she had no idea whether they were alive or not. That is, until Tyrande rode out of the horde and beelined straight for her with a dazed, frantic look on her face.

While astride her saber, Tyrande swung down and took out the demon that Eliana had been warring with. "Eliana, I must ride out to the base of Mount Hyjal!"

"What? Why? What's going on?" Eliana sidled up to Tyrande's mount, laying a hand on the pommel of the saddle.

"It's—I'm not sure that I could explain it, even if I tried, but I've heard from Malfurion."

"Malfurion?" Eliana exclaimed. "Is he back?"

"Yes, he and Lord Krasus have returned to us. He implored that I ride to meet him as quickly as possible," Tyrande explained as her mount shifted its weight from paw to paw, restless to be moving again.

"Then that is what you must do." Eliana stepped back, nodding to give Tyrande the permission she'd come to seek. As Tyrande mounted up, Eliana added, "Take a few of our sisters with you for protection, and return to us as soon as you can."

"Thank you, Eli," Tyrande breathed, lifting her reins.

"Be safe, sister."

With a nod of her own, Tyrande flicked her reins and she and her saber were off.

* * *

_Two days later_

Eliana stared out at the ruined plains below the Night Elven encampment, hidden by a small copse of trees. Even sheltered as she was, rain still pelted her hair, melding it to her head like a second skin. Despite the fact that a few strands hung down in front of her face like wiry threads, she couldn't summon the energy to move them aside. It seemed like she had little energy for anything anymore.

The storm had appeared out of nowhere mere hours after Tyrande's departure. It battered their forces, giving them no choice but to continue moving back, away from the plains. The only small relief was that the demons, too, had no other choice but to retreat as well. They'd been granted a rare, though short, moment of peace. However, when Malfurion and Shandris had returned without Tyrande—and with a red  _dragon_  no less—all of Eliana's conviction had left her. If Elune would not protect one of her most faithful, then what hope did the rest of them have?

Malfurion insisted that she was not at fault, that she couldn't have known what would happen to Tyrande, but despite his reassurances, she could not help but blame herself. As High Priestess, she was responsible for the safety and well-being of her sisters. She should never have let Tyrande leave.

Those thoughts elicited another shaky breath from Eliana, and she looked up at the sky. Raindrops landed on her forehead, snaking their way down her cheeks until she couldn't tell the difference between her tears and those of nature.

"Elune, what have I done wrong?" she murmured as she let her eyes slide shut.

Her mind was quiet, and though she hadn't been expecting an answer, it still left her filled with disappointment. Perhaps if Tyrande had taken the mantle of High Priestess instead of her, Elune would have answered her with the guidance that their people sorely needed now. That, and Tyrande would still be here.

She was startled out of her morbid thoughts by the sound of rustling leaves behind her. Drawing her daggers as she pivoted on her heel into a crouch, she hid behind a cluster of fronds as she waited for the enemy to appear. When Illidan, of all people, stepped out of the trees, she straightened in surprise.

"Illidan? What are you doing out here?"

When she stepped out from behind her cover, his amber eyes immediately locked on to her. With a shrug, he said, "I could ask the same of you."

"I . . ." She trailed off, turning back around to stare at the plains off in the distance once more. "I simply needed some peace and quiet. I needed to be somewhere I could think."

Her gaze flitted across the battlefield, focusing on the massive craters that now dotted the once-smooth, green surface, before it settled on the many corpses littering the field. Without a word, Illidan sidled up to her, following her gaze with a grim expression of his own.

"Would you believe me if I said I was searching for much the same?" he murmured.

A smile teased at the corners of her lips, but before it had a chance to fully form, the waves of grief that had been assailing her returned in full force. "I would."

It was then that he faced her, his brows knitting in concern. "Eliana . . . What happened to Tyrande was—"

"My fault, I know."

To her surprise, it seemed as if Illidan had been able to pick up on her state of mind, something that only her father and Cytheas had seemed to be able to do before now. Still, it didn't mean that she wished to speak about her failures, and especially not with him.

"No, that isn't what I was going to say," he replied, sounding frustrated as he placed his hand on her shoulder. The weight of it only felt like it added to everything else she was juggling at the moment, and she stepped away from him. When his hand fell, he reached out again and turned her around to look into her eyes. "Listen to me, Eliana."

Though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she looked up at him and met his gaze. With an intensity in his eyes that she'd seen few times before this, he said, "It was  _not_  your fault. Tyrande chose to ride out there."

"But when she did, they were ambushed. We lost a few of our sisters, we lost  _her_ , and—"

"And that was her choice. My brother asked her to meet him. If at all, it's  _his_  fault. Not yours."

"Illidan," Eliana chastised, tilting her head to the side. "You can't possibly believe that."

"Why would I not? He needed aid, and she was the one he reached out to, not me. She chose to ride out there without telling anyone but you, and got taken in the process," he spat, turning away from her.

She watched him, shaking her head slightly at his tone. He was upset, that much she knew, but she couldn't tell whether it was about Tyrande's capture or about the fact that Malfurion and Tyrande were far more connected than any of them had expected.

He ran a hand down his face, letting out a deep sigh at the same time. As she watched him, he propped his hands up on his hips, staring out at the plains once more. Without looking at her, he said, "I have more bad news."

"Now what?" she asked under her breath, wishing for nothing more than for this war to be over. "What else could go wrong?"

A beat passed where Illidan remained silent, until he finally added, "Ravencrest is dead."

" _What_?"

"He perished late yesterday. An assassin—" He spoke the word like it was poison. "—appeared from the throng and managed to sneak up behind him. The beast, surprisingly, saw the entire encounter and was the one who felled the assassin."

" _Broxigar_  did? That's—If the commander is dead . . ."

"Then what do we do now? A question we are all asking, trust me." He finally faced her again. "Something needs to be done if we're to win this war. If no one will step up and lead, we are left without a strategy, and we cannot wait for  _someone_  to decide who will be commander next. If we continue on as we have, our people will eventually perish. We cannot go without sleep or food like the demons can, and we have a large gathering of refugees that follow us around."

"They have nowhere else to go, Illidan—much like ourselves."

"It is not a negative thing, it is simply a fact. We have to worry about them in addition to ourselves."

Eliana clasped her hands in front of her. "I suppose that is true."

Another frustrated sigh left Illidan, and he stroked his chin, deep in thought. "Lord Krasus believes we need to reach out to the other races and ask for their aid."

Her brows cinched, matching the frown that now graced her features. "Would they even agree to help us?"

"Does it really matter? We've never asked  _other races_ for help, and they've never come to our aid before. Why would it be any different now?"

"If we fall, Illidan, the rest of the world is next. Surely that would influence their decision."

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter if the people in charge don't bother to actually ask."

She dropped her gaze to the ground, filled with disappointment again. It was true that, overall, the Night Elves did not reach out to  _anyone_. They had never formed alliances with the dwarves or tauren, but neither had  _they_ reached out to the Night Elves. While it seemed fruitless to try, what better reason to force an alliance than a war that threatened all of Azeroth?

Still, she was only one voice of power in a sea of many. Her opinion mattered little if the others in charge did not agree that it was a good plan, and by Illidan's account, that did not seem likely to occur.

Scrunching her nose in annoyance, she asked, "What does Malfurion think?"

A scoff left Illidan as he glared at her. In a voice filled with contempt, he asked, "Why does everyone want to know what my brother thinks?"

Surprised by his vehemence, Eliana leaned back. "I did not mean offense. I simply asked because you'd spoken of Lord Krasus. I knew they both had returned is all."

Illidan hummed as if he didn't believe her, before crossing his arms over his chest. "I did not ask what Malfurion thought. In fact, I haven't spoken to him since he returned."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "He's been missing for  _days_ , Illidan. Nearly a week, in fact. How could you not want to speak to him? If my father was found alive, I can't imagine wanting anything else."

Illidan's gaze remained focused on something off in the distance, and he didn't respond. It wasn't until she opened her mouth to speak again, that he interrupted her. "It's . . . a long story that I would rather not reiterate."

Again, Eliana frowned. "We've time. I do not think we'll be moving from here for quite awhile." As if to prove her point, she sank down onto a nearby boulder, crossing her legs at the knee before bracing herself on it.

Seemingly irritated, but acquiescing, Illidan followed her example. After reluctantly sitting down on the trunk of a fallen tree, he met her gaze. "I don't know how to explain it other than . . . my brother and I have some sort of mental connection through which we can communicate."

"You are twins. I suppose it would make sense."

"Yes, well, through this link, he tried to reach out to me for aid."

"And you turned him down?" Eliana exclaimed.

"Not exactly. I had been willing to help, until he all but shoved his and Tyrande's affection for one another in my face. As I'm sure you could understand, I didn't . . . handle that . . . very well, and I shut down the link before he could say anything else."

"What if he was asking for aid for Tyrande?" Eliana shot to her feet, holding out her hands. "We could have gotten to them in time! We could have—"

"Judging from what the soldiers have been saying, I doubt that. Malfurion told them that they were ambushed by Xavius."

"Who?"

"He was one of the queen's advisors, but apparently, he had become some sort of strange hybrid of demon and elf, fallen from favor. My brother managed to slay Xavius, but it was the others that took Tyrande."

A knot of dread formed in the pit of her stomach. If a being as terrible as this Xavius had lost his leader's favor, what would the demons do to Tyrande? Bile threatened to rise up her throat, and Eliana clasped a hand over her mouth as she started pacing.

Was Illidan right? Even if they'd known more, could they have even reached Tyrande and Malfurion in time? Why didn't he tell someone that Malfurion had tried to reach out to him?

As soon as that question formed in her mind, she looked over at Illidan. He was watching her pace with a blank expression, one hand curled around his knee, and the other propped up on his waist. They knew one another much better now than they had before the war, before events had forced them together. As such, she felt rather sure that . . . he didn't seem all that upset. For someone who had loved Tyrande for most of his life, it struck her as . . . odd.

"Illidan, are you—" Eliana broke off, hesitating to ask the question that was plaguing her. It was difficult to guess how he would react, but she had to know. After taking a deep breath, she started again. "Are you not upset at all that Tyrande has been taken? And by our enemies, no less?"

Slowly, Illidan leaned back, his back ramrod straight. "I never said that I wasn't upset."

"But you are far more calm than I expected you to be. In fact, I feel as if  _I_  am more upset at Tyrande's absence than you are."

He looked away, his intense gaze trained on the ground instead of her. Silence fell between them, and she almost thought he wouldn't respond at all, until he quietly said, "I have said my goodbyes to Tyrande."

"How can you say that? She could still be alive, Illidan! And we—"

She was interrupted by Illidan rising to his feet, his sudden movement catching her off-guard enough to halt her speech. At a pace that was alarmingly brisk, he crossed the clearing, clutching her upper arm in a tight grip.

"You misunderstand me, Eliana! I do not wish for her death, no, but you cannot expect me to be overcome with grief at her every action that puts me second, and my brother first.  _She_ chose Malfurion, and so she shall have him. If she, or  _you_ , expect me to sit here and pine away for a female who wants nothing to do with me, then you are both blind! If she wanted Malfurion, then  _he_ can grieve for her. I will not."

Shocked beyond words, Eliana stared up at him with wide eyes. A part of her was relieved that he had, seemingly, left his feelings for Tyrande behind. However, that part paled in comparison to the voice at the back of her mind that was appalled that Illidan could so readily forget about someone that he had loved for so long. If he could easily squash his emotions towards Tyrande, who was to say how long he would harbor whatever miniscule feelings he now held towards  _her_?

As her mind raced, Illidan's fierce expression softened. The vice grip he'd had on her arm lessened, and he moved his hand to cradle her cheek. "I can practically see what you're thinking, Eliana. It's different. You are not Tyrande."

"No, I am not," Eliana whispered. "And that is what worries me."

"But that is  _precisely_ why you should not be worried."

Her responding denial was nearly imperceptible, but her cheek brushed against Illidan's palm as she shook her head. Illidan let out a sigh, and opened his mouth to explain when he was interrupted by the blaring of a horn behind him. Startled, she broke their eye contact and dropped her gaze to the creases in his onyx leather jerkin.

An irritated grunt left him, and he lowered his arm. "That must be the announcement for the funeral."

"Funeral?" Eliana echoed.

Illidan nodded, and said, "They've gathered what dead they could from the field. Many of our people wanted some sort of ceremony for them. I believe they . . . moved Lord Ravencrest's body away from the front lines when he perished. It's likely to honor him as well."

Eliana cringed at the mental image of Lord Ravencrest, devoid of life and immobile on the ground. It was so different than what he'd been like in life. Would the reminders of how much they had lost ever end?

He took a step back and offered his hand to her. "We'll continue this discussion after the funeral. Walk with me?"

They returned to the camp, arm in arm, and joined the gathered crowd towards the back. Eliana noted that the rain had lightened since she'd stepped into the forest; what had been a downpour before was now only a slight mist. It was as if nature realized that this was a moment of much-needed respite.

Illidan had been right when he'd spoken of the possibility of honoring Lord Ravencrest: soldiers, gathered beneath a stretched band of canvas that held the noble aloft, carried the commander's body down a winding path through the encampment. It was a sobering sight, and she could feel waves of grief and sorrow coming from those in the crowd. Like being in the midst of battle, the strength of the emotions was overwhelming, and she swayed on her feet ever-so-slightly. Illidan must have sensed her discomfort, because he slid his arm out from under hers and grasped her hand tightly in his own.

Grateful, she glanced up at him with a smile that was meant to be reassuring, but he must have seen right through her. His face fell, and he stared down into her eyes with a frown. This was neither the time nor place to explain what she was experiencing, so she shook her head and tried to break eye contact. He stopped her with a squeeze of his hand, and when she looked back up at him, there was an unspoken promise in his eyes that they would talk about this, as well as continuing their earlier discussion, later, away from prying eyes.

They were interrupted by the blowing of another horn, announcing the next segment of the procession. Before they could step away from the crowd, shouts came from behind Illidan, followed by the rapid thudding of paws against dirt.

In unison, they turned towards the sound. A slender figure atop a frostsaber was heading in their direction, and when they neared, Eliana realized that it was Shandris.

Quickly, Eliana dropped Illidan's hand and stepped up to meet Tyrande's former shadow. "Shandris, what is it?"

"High Priestess, your presence has been requested at the end of the funeral procession," Shandris explained as she dismounted. She offered a quick bow with her hand over her heart, before straightening once more. "I've been sent to bring you back with me."

Illidan joined Eliana at her side, his dark brows furrowed in confusion. "High Priestess?"

With a nod, Shandris gestured towards Eliana. "Mistress Eliana was named High Priestess upon Dejahna's death."

His eyes widened as he faced her head-on, a silent question hidden in their depths. Hesitant to speak of this now, Eliana shook her head slightly, hoping that he'd understand they'd speak about it in more detail later—another topic to add to their quickly growing list. An acquiescent nod was his response, and Eliana looked to Shandris.

"After you, Shandris."

"Mistress."

Once they were wedged in the wide saddle together, Eliana spared one last glance in Illidan's direction before they were racing off for the end of the procession. The crowd grew the farther back they rode, and when they reached a small clearing at the base of the mountain, their people had formed a circle around an empty funeral pyre. Beside the pyre laid rows and rows of bodies, neatly lined up with their hands folded over their chests.

On one side, the remainder of Lord Ravencrest's forces were standing at attention in even lines. On the opposite end of the clearing, the remainder of the Sisterhood of Elune were watching from the hill. Eliana's own chest tightened at the morbid sight of all their fallen kin.

_So much life lost._

Without a word, she and Shandris dismounted and made their way towards their fellow priestesses. As they walked, members of the crowd quickly moved aside for Eliana, making the sign of the Mother Moon as she passed. The attention and reverence unnerved her, but there was little she could do to stop her people from paying their respects to her position. At a time like this, she knew that it would do more harm than good for her to protest. Finally, they reached the other priestesses who bowed in unison, making room for Eliana right in the front and center of their group.

She about-faced, and folded her hands in front of her as she looked in the direction the procession would approach from. Side-conversations filled the air behind her, but she didn't bother to quiet her sisters. At a rare moment of downtime in such a brutal war, it would be cruel to take the opportunity away from them. Many of them knew what it felt like to lose a sister by now, and if they wanted to talk amongst themselves for now, reassure themselves that their friends still lived, then why stop them?

Distracted nonetheless, Eliana glanced away from the crowd and across the way at the soldiers. To her surprise, Cytheas was standing in the first row, staring in her direction as well. Her mouth dropped open, and she closed it with a snap before raising her hand to wave. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards in amusement, and he raised an eyebrow as he gestured to her position in her own line.

Embarrassed, she placed two fingers at the side of her temples to signify a crown—the position of High Priestess was  _not_  royalty, but she knew he'd understand what she meant. His eyes widened, and he bowed with his hand over his heart. A frown marred her features, and when he straightened again, she glared at him in full-force. He must've chuckled, because the soldier beside him elbowed him in annoyance. Thoroughly put in his place, Cytheas held up a single finger to communicate that they'd talk later, and she nodded in agreement.

It had been impossible to see from their position before, but now that Eliana stood at the front, she could see that the Moon Guard had been positioned beside Lord Ravencrest's forces. As a horn sounded nearer to them than before, she saw Illidan elbow his way to the front of the sorcerers. Though many of them looked disgruntled at his appearance, they moved aside to make room for him.

Almost immediately, he looked over at the priestesses and caught Eliana's eye. Her cheeks darkened; she hadn't expected him to see her staring in his direction, but he didn't seem to mind. Instead, he stared intently at her, holding her gaze as he inclined his head ever-so-slightly in acknowledgment.

Much to her surprise, she didn't see Malfurion anywhere.

The horn sounded again, pulling her attention away from Illidan. Lord Ravencrest's pallbearers were making their way around the bend, and the entire crowd dropped to one knee in respect. There was collective silence as everyone mourned the fallen commander.

When the procession neared the pyre, the crowd rose to their feet and watched with somber expressions as the pallbearers carried Ravencrest's body up the steps to the actual platform. Though High Priestess Dejahna had fallen in battle some time before the commander, and her body could not be preserved until the funeral, a small shrine of remembrance had been erected atop the platform as well so that respects could still be paid to her memory.

Seeing the offering somehow made all of this feel more real. Eliana knew, of course, that Dejahna's death  _had_  happened—after all, she'd been named High Priestess. But she hadn't been there, hadn't seen it happen for herself. Somehow, that had made it seem as if the whole occurrence was a dream, a reality that she'd somehow not quite come to terms with yet.

The pallbearers set down Lord Ravencrest's body and descended the ladder, lining up along both sides of the path at attention. A male with hair as white as her own stepped forth from the soldiers, and kneeled in front of the pyre. Once he rose, he faced the crowd and, in a sonorous voice, began.

"Today, we honor the memory of all that we have lost. The Burning Legion has taken much from our people, but most of all, they have taken the ones we loved—" Eliana dropped her gaze to the ground, her eyes filling with tears as she thought of her father. Now, the Sisterhood's beloved mentor had perished, and Tyrande was missing as well. "—and they have taken our  _home_. We are locked in a constant fight for our survival, and if I have anything to say about it, the demons will take no more from us."

He paused, facing the pyre once again before looking in Eliana's direction. "If the Sisterhood of Elune would be so kind as to give their blessing while we proceed with the funeral, I believe it would mean a great deal to many among us."

This was her first true moment as High Priestess, and Eliana immediately felt the weight of her actions bearing down on her. She, of course, could not refuse, but she'd never before led a prayer by herself. Tentatively, she reached out and offered her hands to the sisters beside her. They, in turn, did the same to their neighbors, until the entire Sisterhood of Elune was linked.

As High Priestess, she was also given the responsibility of singing the first note. This, at least, she could do. It left her, clear and resonant, filtering through the trees around them and permeating the dirt beneath their feet with pure energy. Her fellow priestesses joined in, and the Song of Elune surrounded them all. As a diffused glow enveloped the priestesses, the slow, steady flap of massive wings came from above them. Eliana's singing stuttered when she glanced up and saw the same red dragon from before, the one that had fought against the lone member of the black dragonflight.

It touched down on the edge of the clearing in the empty space directly across from the pyre, sending a gust of brisk air sweeping across the crowd. The ends of her hair fluttered behind her as she turned away from the wind, fighting to keep her voice even. After the brief interruption, the sisters continued their prayer, and much to her surprise, the dragon inched closer to the pyre. Without warning, his jaw widened, ripples of heat leaving his maw as his throat glowed amber.

_Is he truly going to do what I think he's going to do?_

Flames spewed forth from the depths of the dragon's throat, engulfing the pyre in its entirety. Once the pyre was aflame, the dragon moved its head from side to side, ensuring that all of the bodies were also affected. Now that its job was finished, it stepped back, lowering its head in respect as the crowd watched their dead burn.

As the priestesses sang the final notes of the Song of Elune, the white-haired soldier stepped forward from their ranks once more. "We say goodbye to our loved ones, our leaders, but we know that they are never truly lost to us. They live on in our memories, as they guide our actions, and know that our revered Lord Ravencrest will receive his justice in the form of the  _end_ of the Burning Legion.

"Rest, my brethren. Hold your remaining loved ones close for we return to battle sooner than we all wish."

With a swish of his cloak, he signaled to the soldiers to return to the front of the encampment. Most of the crowd dispersed as well, weaving their way between the soldiers to their own tents towards the back. Though she wanted nothing more than to return to her  _own_  tent, she knew that, in times like these, their people often needed reassurance, a testament to their faith. As she'd suspected, before the Sisterhood could scatter, many of the refugees approached them, begging for blessings from the Mother Moon.

Beside her, Shandris said, "What a beautiful tribute to our fallen. If only—" She broke off with a frown, before letting out a shaky breath and finishing, "If only Mistress Tyrande could have seen it, too."

"Don't speak like that, Shandris. We don't know that Tyrande has left this world. For all we know, she's fighting the demons in her own way, even though she is held captive," Eliana replied. "I would like to believe that is the case. I  _have_  to."

Shandris looked up at Eliana, newfound determination in her eyes. "You are right, High Priestess. I wish to believe that as well."

Even though she felt hypocritical for saying it aloud, Eliana murmured, "Then let your faith guide you."

A refugee approached Shandris, then, holding out their trembling hands to the young orphan. Shandris' cheeks darkened, before she tentatively bowed. "I'm sorry, I'm . . . I'm afraid I am not a Priestess of Elune. But—" She gestured to Eliana. "I am sure the High Priestess would be more than happy to bestow a blessing upon you."

Eliana started, though she tried to cover her surprise with a slight bow of her own. "Of course" she said, grasping the refugees hands in her own. The female's eyes widened, likely surprised that the High Priestess would take it upon herself to bestow blessings, rather than delegate to her sisters. "May the Mother Moon watch over you, protect you, and guide you as your faith remains unerringly true."

They were encased in the same soft light that had appeared during the Song of Elune, and once the light faded, the female bowed deeply at the waist. "Thank you, High Priestess! Thank you!"

With a smile, Eliana sent the refugee off, feeling a sense of calm spread over her. She hadn't asked to become High Priestess, and despite the heavy burden of responsibility, this was a much-needed reminder that they were doing all they could to help their people. Not only did the Sisterhood fight to ensure the survival of the Night Elves, but their calling involved offering blessings and healing the wounded, as well. They would do everything they could, whatever their people needed from them, for as long as possible. Even as their numbers dwindled, even as their loved ones disappeared, one by one. They would endure, because they  _had_ to.

Shandris made a sound of wonder that pulled Eliana from her thoughts. "That was incredible, mistress."

At the young orphan's words, Eliana's cheeks darkened. "I . . . Thank you, Shandris."

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted their conversation, and when Eliana glanced up, she was pleased to see Cytheas heading in their direction with a small band of his soldiers. A quick flick of his wrist dismissed them, and he stepped up to her alone with a small smile on his face.

"That  _was_  impressive, Eli. Look at how far you've come." His voice was soft, proud, and she offered a quivering smile as tears pooled in her eyes again.

"Cytheas . . . I'm so happy that you're still alive," Eliana murmured, winding her arms around her friend's waist.

"Oh, come now. Did you ever think I wouldn't make it?" he teased, resting his chin atop her head.

"No, but . . . we've lost so many of our loved ones, that . . . I will always be concerned for you."

"Well, the feeling is mutual." He stepped back, bracing his hands on her shoulders as he peered down at her face. "You look exhausted."

"I  _am_  exhausted. Ever since High Priestess Dejahna perished and I was named her successor, it's been . . . hectic. I've had little chance to rest, but then, haven't we all?"

With a slight shake of his head, Cytheas replied, "You are far too kind-hearted and selfless, Eliana. Yes, we've all been fighting hard, but you still need to rest. If you don't, and you go back out there at what isn't your best, you could risk everything. It isn't simply about just you now. As High Priestess, you have to think about the entire Sisterhood of Elune."

At first, anger welled up in her, threatening to spill over as she opened her mouth to retort. Just as quickly as her anger had appeared, it faded away as she realized that Cytheas was right. With a conceding sigh, she muttered, "I know. You are right."

His eyes widened and he let his arms drop to his sides. "What is this? No sharp quip in response? Who are you, and what have you done with Eliana?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him, settling for shaking her head instead. "Very amusing, Cyth."

A chuckle escaped him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, turning her towards the other end of the encampment. "Come. I'll walk you to your tent."

A smile teased at the corners of her lips, and she ducked her head in acquiescence. They'd barely taken a few steps when they were stopped by someone clearing their throat behind them.

"I can take her from here, Cytheas."

Eliana would recognize that baritone anywhere, but apparently, so did Cytheas. He tensed, his arm hardening around her shoulders as he flexed his arm. Without a word, he pivoted on his heel, his expression blank as he turned them to face Illidan. It was a stark contrast to his body language, and she almost edged out from under him, his posture was so rigid.

"Illidan. So glad to see that you're safe," Cytheas said in greeting.

Illidan quirked his head to the side, his expression devoid of amusement. "Are you now?" he deadpanned.

Eliana cinched her brows in confusion. Since Illidan and Cytheas had first met, they'd been at odds at nearly every turn. For a brief period of time, it seemed like they were capable of at least being civil towards one another. Clearly, something had happened during the war that had set them on opposing sides once again.

Briefly, she wondered if it had anything to do with her before dismissing the idea. That had been a long time ago. Though Cytheas had admitted that his feelings for her would never fully dissipate, it seemed odd that his jealousy would suddenly reappear out of nowhere, for seemingly no reason. It had to be something else.

"Is there something wrong?" she questioned, stepping between them and placing a hand on each of their chests.

Neither one of them answered, choosing instead to stare intensely at one another over her head. Eventually, Cytheas eventually looked at her. "No. Everything is fine. If Illidan wishes to walk you back to your tent, who am I to stop him?"

"Indeed," Illidan murmured, so quietly that Eliana doubted Cytheas heard him.

She frowned, and started to say, "Cytheas, if—"

"It's fine, Eliana. I'll come find you before tomorrow. Just . . . please make sure you get some rest?"

"I will, I promise," she replied softly, lowering her hand to her side.

He nodded, throwing one last heated glare in Illidan's direction before brushing past the sorcerer and heading to where the rest of the soldiers stood. Illidan side-stepped with a slight scoff, watching Cytheas' receding figure over his shoulder. When he faced Eliana again, he opened his mouth to speak. A heavy drop of rain splattered the top of her head, and she reached up in surprise.

"I thought the storm had finally passed," she murmured, mostly to herself.

Despite her absentminded speech, Illidan followed her cue and glanced up, frowning when he, too, was pelted by drops of rain. "As did I."

Only a few seconds later, it seemed as if the world decided it was time for the storm to return in full force. Eliana gasped as she was doused by the sudden deluge of rain, and Illidan exclaimed, rather forcefully, in surprise. He shielded his face with his hand, reaching out to plant his other hand on her back, steering her towards the treeline. Even under their newfound shelter, the torrential storm still managed to assault them.

In the clearing, the few lingering soldiers and refugees were scurrying to get out of the sudden storm. The majority of the crowd ran for their tents, but since Illidan and Eliana had been farther away from the clearing, they were left alone in their small copse of trees off to the side. Of course, that also meant they were stranded. It was too far of a distance to their tents, and they were, respectively, on opposite ends of the camp.

Until the storm let up a bit, they were stuck where they were.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's a bit of housekeeping (after like two months away, I know, I know). This chapter is the first of a two-part section that brings to a close the end of this arc in the story. After the end of the next chapter, we'll be right at the start of The Sundering—most exciting news! That means we're 2/3 of the way through this story! And since I write at the world's most glacial pace, and have the world's most patient readers, I promise the next chapter will be worth the wait, and will please all Illiana shippers :P
> 
> Now, with that being said, I've decided to up the rating to a hard M as of the next chapter. When I started this story, I had no intention of writing it like I do my other stories, and planned to keep things toned down in terms of lemons and whatnot. Apparently, I am incapable of doing that. I know that a lot of you came into this story likely because of the T rating (while others will perhaps be elated at the rating change), and I apologize in advance for the "mislead". If you choose to stop reading this story, I would understand. However, I plan on marking which chapters have such content, and will aim to make it so that, if you decide to skip the smut and move on to the next chapter, you wouldn't be missing anything vital. Such is the case with the second half of this chapter, which will hopefully be up by the end of this next coming week (I'm about a third of the way through it). 
> 
> Thank you so so much to everyone who has stuck around to this point in time, and I am so sorry that the story is still not complete. Working full-time, going to school part-to-basically-full time, and having two ongoing stories in additional to, well, life, is pretty hectic, and I am so lucky to have readers who understand. 
> 
> Last but not least, thanks to Arenoptara as always for beta-reading :) See you guys in a week or less!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has pushed the story rating to E. If that isn't your cup of tea, I've structured the chapter in such a way that you'd be okay to skip this without missing out on any vital narrative-content. Fair warning ;)

When the bustle of the crowd leaving the clearing faded, only the rhythmic sound of the rain pattering against the fronds above them remained. The earthy smell of wet dirt wafted through the air, and Eliana breathed it in, spreading her arms wide as she glanced upwards at the now-dark sky. There were hints of the war permeating the normally comforting scent: veins of blood and ichor, of rusting metal armor and the slightly electric aroma of magical discharge. More than anything, she hoped that the rain could wash away some of their people's sorrow— _her_ sorrows.

Beside her, Illidan braced himself against the trunk of a nearby tree, his chest heaving with every breath. When he finally calmed, he looked over at her, amusement lighting his eyes. "You look like you're enjoying the rain."

"Not necessarily," she replied, meeting his gaze. "There's been far too much rain the past couple of days for it to be something I still _enjoy_. Still, it is offering us much needed respite, and . . . if it _is_ here, why not try to see it as something positive?"

"Hmm." He turned away, staring out at the funeral pyre in the clearing. Tendrils of dark smoke curled upwards, flames put out by the sudden downpour. "I think it a pain, to be honest."

"Nature is hard to predict. There was no way to know the storm would turn again. It is what it is." Illidan was still facing the clearing, and so he didn't see the tiniest shrug she offered. "Do you not like the rain, Illidan? Or are you more irritated at the fact that we're now stuck out here for as long as nature dictates?"

"The latter, more so than the former. If I were my _brother_ , I might've been able to do something about it," he sneered, his eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly.

Eliana frowned, picking up on the bitter undertone in Illidan's voice. It was true that he'd never made it a secret that he and Malfurion had always been competitive. But lately, it seemed as if that competitiveness had transformed into something else entirely.

"Well," she said, clasping her arms in front of her. "I, for one, am glad that I am not stuck in the rain with your brother."

A quiet scoff left him, as if he didn't believe her. The seconds ticked by in silence, with him staring blankly at the dying embers of a flame, and her watching him, waiting for him to say something.

Finally, after glancing over his shoulder at her, he said, "Earlier, when we joined the crowd, you seemed upset about something. What was it?"

Eliana's gaze flickered upwards as she thought back to the particular moment he was referring to. He must've meant when they'd first witnessed the procession winding its way through the camp, when she'd been overwhelmed by the emotions of the crowd. "I—It is difficult to explain to someone who is not tied to the temple, tied to our faith as we priestesses are."

Again, he craned his neck, twisting around to look at her. "Try. We've time."

With the tiniest of sighs, Eliana glanced at the rain beyond the trees. The drops were falling so fast, it was impossible to see individual ones—it simply looked like a blur of movement, a wall of moisture that peppered the ground with ease.

"I suppose you are right," she began in a quiet voice, moving closer to him and sitting down on a broken tree stump. "We priestesses are connected to our people through the faith we share. Through the Mother Moon, and the blessings we give freely, we feel what our people are feeling: joy, mirth . . . grief. Earlier, when we joined the crowd and everyone saw Lord Ravencrest's body for the first time, it was much like . . . feeling not only my own grief, but the grief of all of those around me—and all at once, no less."

Illidan studied her, his expression blank, though his eyes were as acute as always. At first, he didn't respond, just stared down at her as if he were assessing what _to_ say. Eventually, in a subdued voice, he said, "I suppose that explains why you seemed so somber during the funeral."

A quiet laugh escaped Eliana, closer to a scoff than a chuckle. "It was a _funeral_ , Illidan. I would hope that I had appeared to be appropriately somber."

A matching laugh of his own filled the space, and once it died down, Illidan faced forward again. Eliana took the opportunity to study her hands, folded in her lap as they were. Her fingers were littered with newfound scars: nicks from her daggers as she twirled them around, scratches from brushing aside errant branches, new callouses scattered along her palms. They were just as damaged as her people, finally losing their sheen of perfection afforded to her by her youth.

After all her hands had done, after all she'd seen, could she even consider herself to be innocent anymore? Could she truly claim to be a Priestess of Elune? A female who, not only offered blessings and prayers of faith, but who now led the Sisterhood in its entirety? Could she do that, and still believe wholeheartedly that good remained in this world, when she had seen creatures who were the epitome of the exact opposite?

A branch snapped in front of her, and she jerked her head up in surprise, gasping when she saw Illidan standing right in front of her. Without a word, he kneeled, taking her hands in his own and studying her palms as she had done.

As he trailed his fingers along the underside of hers, causing little flutters in her abdomen, he murmured, "I can practically hear you thinking, Eliana. What is on your mind, now?"

At first, she watched him as he caressed her hand, engrossed in the warmth his attentions elicited from her. A few seconds later, she replied, "I—It's just that . . . we've lost so much in this war already. We've all lost loved ones, we've all lost our homes. What more will we lose when this is all over? How much of what we love and hold dear will remain? _If_ we win?"

Illidan paused in his ministrations, and slowly raised his head to meet her gaze. "Don't," he chided. "Of all people who could ever sound so discouraged, I never want to hear it from _you_ , Eliana."

Surprised by the vehemence in his tone, Eliana stared into his eyes until the tiniest gurgle of anger erupted deep within her. A frown gradually marred her features, forming a deep v between her brows. "And why not? Why am I not allowed to feel this way when I know there are so many others who do? How do you think the refugees feel, Illidan? I am sure they are filled with equal senses of loss and confusion, of hopelessness. Why is it that _I_ am the only person who is not allowed to share those emotions?"

Her rant fueled the anger inside of her, and she tried to tug her hands out of Illidan's grasp. Instead of letting her go, he tightened his grip and leaned forward, prompting her to shy away from him on her makeshift stool. His brows were furrowed, his eyes narrowed and blazing with determination.

In a low, controlled voice, he said, "Because of who you _are_. Some might say that it's because you are the High Priestess now that you are not allowed to lose faith, but I say that's horseshit."

His uncharacteristic curse almost had her laughing, until he continued speaking with such conviction, that all she could do was _listen._

"It's because of who you are _here_ —" He let go of one of her hands to place his own palm against her heart. "—that I don't want to ever hear words like that come from your mouth again. More than anyone else I have ever known, you are capable of such compassion, such faith in those you believe in, even in the worst of times such as these. If _you_ lose faith, then there is no hope for the rest of us."

Tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to stream down her cheeks. There was such absolute confidence and belief in Illidan's eyes that she wasn't entirely sure how to respond. When nearly a minute had passed by in silence and she still hadn't said anything back, Illidan moved his hand up to cradle her face. His thumb brushed across the high plane of her cheekbone, the callouses on his skin grating roughly across her face, though it wasn't entirely uncomfortable.

"You trust me, don't you?" Illidan whispered.

"Of course."

A beat passed before he said, "You are the only person who has ever truly believed in me—without doubts, without reservations. Allow me to believe in you."

His words spread through her, warming her down to the tips of her fingers and toes like the rays of the sun against her skin. Before the war, before they'd had continual exposure to daylight, she would've never thought the sun's warmth could be comforting. But Illidan's faith in her was just as unexpectedly soothing—a cocoon of strength and safety.

As her eyes slid shut, a tear finally escaped, sliding down the curve of her cheek. Illidan brushed it away with the pad of his thumb. A creak of leather followed, and then his lips were pressed against hers.

Taken aback, Eliana's eyes flew open in surprise. Again, he caressed her cheek, and it was then that she realized she _wanted_ this. It had been so long since they'd had a moment to themselves, a chance to let go of all of their inhibitions and the stresses of battle. Perhaps the moment wasn't right—after all, they'd just come from a funeral—but to be quite frank, she didn't particularly care. It was rare for her to put herself first, and she could practically hear Illidan saying that there was no better chance than now.

His tongue glided along the seam of her lips, sending tingles running down her spine, and she opened for him with a quiet moan that was immediately swallowed up. She'd forgotten how easy it was for him to make her swoon, how little he had to do. Hesitantly, she wound her arms around his neck, not wanting to seem too eager but at the same time, needing him closer, needing more of him.

Illidan's only response was a deep groan, before he moved from a crouch down onto his knees, shifting his arms around her body to brace himself on the tree stump. His scent, metallic and spicy, _familiar_ , enveloped her, and she breathed him in, still feeling like she needed more but unsure of what exactly that meant.

Eventually, he broke away, pulling back to rest his forehead against hers. His breaths came quickly, peppering against her lips as she, too, fought to level her breathing.

"Eliana, I—" He paused, swallowing hard. "I wish to—I _need_ you."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, she reached up, threading her fingers through the onyx strands of his hair. "I know. I feel the same way."

Her response must have surprised him, because he leaned back to inspect her. "But have you ever . . ?"

"No," she replied, her eyes shifting to meet his. "I haven't. But I know that . . . I need more. I need _you_. I need to . . . be taken away from all this, to forget—if only for a moment."

The simmering heat in Illidan's eyes transformed into something deeper, heavier, and distinctly _un_ familiar. She suspected that if their past intimate moments had had the chance to continue, evolve, that she would have seen something similar to what she saw now. Alas, they hadn't, and she was faced with the choice of stopping this, or continuing on.

For a brief moment, she hesitated. Times of war called for desperate actions, but was this something she wanted to dive headfirst into without considering all of the repercussions? Then, she looked deeper into his eyes and realized that, war or not, she and Illidan were meant to reach this point. If not now, when? Why wait if she _felt_ ready?

Around them, the storm intensified, as if it sensed the whirlwind of desire that welled deep within her. Every sound but the beat of the rain disappeared, enveloping them in a dome of silence. With slow movements, she reached up and touched his face, tracing the lines of his features: his aquiline nose; the bow-like curve of his lips, so often set in a frown; the sharp edge of his jawline. Unlike her, his eyes slid shut as he leaned into her touch without hesitation, as if seeking the very same comfort she gleaned from him.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to still the ripples of anxiety in her, Eliana said, "Show me, Illidan."

Almost lazily, his eyes opened once more and he held her gaze for what felt like eons, though she knew it could have only been mere seconds. All she could focus on was the sound of their breaths, intermingling, and the steady fall of the rain as it hit the underbrush. Then, he rose up on the balls of his feet, almost as if to stand. Hooking his arm around her waist, before she realized what had happened, he pulled her to the ground on top of him.

The forest floor was damp from the rain; Eliana's palms pressed against the spongy moss beneath Illidan's body. Confused, her gaze flickered between his face and where they were laying.

"Aren't _you_ supposed to be on top?" she questioned, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, and he smirked. "I _can_ be, though there isn't a 'rule' for these things. I simply thought that, since you have no experience, it might help you feel less nervous if you were in control."

A blush darkened Eliana's cheeks. He was right when he noted that she had no experience—after all, she'd admitted as much—but to have it pointed out in such a way was incredibly embarrassing. As if he sensed how she was feeling, he ran his hands up and down her arms, pulling her attention back to him.

In a low voice, he said, "I did not mean it in a negative way, Eliana. I only wish to help you feel more comfortable. Tell me what you need."

She hesitated, unsure of how to put it into eloquent terms. Again, he caressed her arms, holding her gaze intently as she tried to navigate the fog that seemed to have taken over her mind. His arms eventually found their way to her waist, encircling her body atop her armor. When a few more seconds passed and she still hadn't responded, he lightly ran his finger along the lower pointed edge of her armor, following the lines from the inside to the outer edge.

"Tell me, Eliana." His gaze flitted up to hers from what his fingers were doing, and she exhaled, her breath stuttering at the heated look in his eyes. He must've taken that as her confirmation, her somewhat verbal cue to continue, because he then asked, "May I . . ?"

Another hard swallow was her only reply, and he, thankfully, took it to mean the yes that she had meant it to be. With gentle fingers, he reached around her, unclasping the buckles that attached her pauldrons to her chestpiece. Next, he removed the chestpiece itself, and unbuckled her vambraces, leaving her in only the thin shift she wore underneath her armor. After lifting each piece away from her body, he set the pieces beside them on the forest floor, within reach but out of the way.

This, at least, was nothing new. She'd been in front of him in similar dress many times before; the robes of a priestess offered much the same amount of layers as her shift. However, the situation was vastly different. She felt . . . exposed, mostly due to the fact that he was now wearing much more than she was.

Feeling brave enough to at least ask that of him, she sat back a bit, resting her weight on his hips. Tentatively, she brought her hands closer to him, fiddling with the laces of his leather jerkin. This was not the first time she could admit to wanting to see him without the layers that protected him, to see him bare, to admire him in a way she never had before.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards, before he quickly sat up, making her squeal in surprise. His strong arms wound around her waist, holding her in place as he scooted to make them level. With a weighted glance in her direction, he rested his hands on her waist again, gesturing with his chin at his clothing.

"By all means, feel free," Illidan murmured, mirth coloring his words.

Though she felt her cheeks warm, she toyed with the ends of the laces, pulling them slowly out of the knot that secured his jerkin shut. One by one, she unlaced them through the holes until the entire front was undone, revealing a thin sliver of violet skin. Another shaky breath escaped her, and before she pushed the jerkin away from his body, she slipped her hands underneath the leather, resting her palms against the ripples of muscle on his abdomen.

When she ghosted her fingers lower, she felt his muscles clench. An upwards glance revealed that his jaw was equally as tense, and she moved to retract her hands, muttering an apology. Before she could fully pull away, he encircled her wrist with his hand, holding it tightly, but not painfully.

"No, don't stop." His amber eyes blazed with desire, and the air around them felt heavy with the energy that arced between them.

She could feel it on her skin, tingling and warm like the way his touch often made her feel. While Priestesses of Elune were not necessarily magically-inclined in a traditional sense, they held power fueled by nature and faith. Illidan was one of the most powerful sorcerers she knew of—despite his propensity for avoiding rules and advice—and his arcane aura pulsed around them, intermingling with her own pure essence. It was heady, empowering, and overwhelming all at once.

Following his direction, she placed her palms on the hard planes of his chest, caressing him with her fingertips for a moment before finally slipping his jerkin off. He rolled his shoulders easily, and the jerkin fell to the ground. Finally able to take in his form, unhindered by armor or clothing, she sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him.

He was magnificent.

The curve of his clavicle as it sloped down from his shoulders was mesmerizing; the small divot between his chest and his abdomen muscles, enticing; but what captured her attention the most was the molten heat in his amber eyes, laden with desire, and the promise of _more_.

As if his newfound exposure was a harsh reminder of just how far into this they'd come, Illidan slid his hands upwards along Eliana's waist, dragging her shift with him. He stared up at her, a silent question in his eyes, one that made her swallow her building panic.

She wanted this, wanted him, but she was so out of her element, that she was afraid of coming across as exceptionally naive, or ridiculous. It wasn't that she thought Illidan would point her mistakes out, or make her feel embarrassed on purpose. It was more so that . . . how could she avoid that with her inexperience?

Illidan's hands paused, his thumbs brushing just under her breasts. "Eliana," he began in a soft voice, prompting her to meet his gaze. "If you wish for me to stop, all you have to do is say so."

"No, I—I want you to continue, I just—"

"You're just thinking far too much," he chided, though it wasn't derisive. It almost sounded like he was teasing her.

"I cannot help it," she mumbled, her cheeks darkening even further.

"I know. But this is one of those things that you cannot overthink. Just let your body speak for you, let _it_ tell me what you like and don't like." He traced his thumb back and forth, grazing the underside of her breasts, which made her breath hitch in her throat. A grin spread across his face, lazy and sure. "See?"

Though she was filled with anxiety, and more than a little embarrassed, Eliana nodded. "I trust you, Illidan."

That made him pause, and he held her gaze with an unreadable expression. Languidly, he craned his neck, brushing his lips across hers. "And that means more to me than I could ever express in words."

She shifted, resting her hands on his powerful shoulders. When he moved to pull her shift completely off, she felt his muscles tense and roll underneath her fingers. The bundles of muscles along his arms flexed, and she felt them tighten around her. There was such inherent strength in him, and she knew that there were few places she could ever feel safer. That knowledge eased her nerves, calmed the roiling waves of anxiety in her abdomen.

As soon as her shift fell to the ground atop his discarded jerkin, Illidan's eyes flitted down her body, seemingly drinking it all in—drinking _her_ in. This time, not only did her cheeks darken, but it felt like her entire chest and neck flared with heat. When Illidan's fingers migrated higher, grazing her nipples ever-so-briefly, pulses of desire shot straight to her core.

Then, he leaned forward, taking the peak of her nipple into the heat of his mouth. She was unable to stop the shocked cry that escaped her lips, and her fingers slid up into the hair at the base of his neck, tugging unconsciously. A grunt was his only response before he swirled his tongue along the bud, and the slick texture of it had her pulling at his hair again.

This time, he leaned back, releasing her nipple to mockingly glare up at her. "If you keep doing that, Eliana, we won't be doing _this_ for much longer," he chastised her in a low, gravelly tone.

The depth of his baritone made her shiver in anticipation, and she loosened her hold on his hair. "I am sorry, I am not trying to do it on purpose. I simply—"

"I know," he said, interrupting her. He reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. "I only meant that it is making me want to move faster, and I do not wish to rush you."

"Oh," she breathed, proceeding to run her hands through his surprisingly silky strands. "Then . . . do you like it when I do that?"

Again, he leaned forward, pursing his lips just when he was close enough to wrap them around her now-swollen bud. "Very much," he murmured, glancing upwards with a lustful gaze before snaking his tongue out to lick her.

That earned him another cry, though this one tapered out and transformed into a moan—a sound that Eliana hadn't ever thought she'd hear herself make. While she knew that her breasts occasionally became sore and tender, she never thought they could ache in _this_ way. Everything that Illidan was doing seemed to make her ache in ways she'd never known, ways that made her squirm in his lap, desperate for more.

His response to her wiggling around surprised her: he clenched up, tightening his arms around her almost painfully hard. With a groan, he pulled back once more and looked up at her with a furrowed brow. "If you keep doing _that_ , then we will definitely be moving faster than you need right now."

Confused, her mouth opened but no words came out. He let out a huff, before gripping her waist and tugging her body lower, flush against his hips. When she felt the hard press of his erection directly at her core, she flushed, cheeks darkening to almost black. Her eyes flew up to meet his, and she felt the harsh exhales of his breath on her chest.

Faced with the physical evidence of how much he desired her, Eliana wondered if this was the moment that others had spoken of, the moment of no return. He had made her feel so much, experience so much, that she _needed_ more, not only wanted more. If that was how she felt, judging by what was seated between their bodies, he was even farther beyond that.

And truly, did she even _wish_ to stop?

When Illidan shifted his hips and grazed the bundle of nerves nestled at the top of her core, she received her answer. A wave of pleasure rocked through her body, so strong that she had to close her eyes at the sudden light-headedness that threatened to overtake her. From afar, she thought she heard Illidan grunt, and realized that she must've tugged at his hair again.

Before she had a chance to apologize, Illidan wound his arm around her waist and flipped them over. Now, he was holding himself over her, cradling her in the crook of his arm as he fumbled for something on the ground. Not long after, he dragged something behind her before finally laying her down. When her bare skin touched the soft fabric of her shift, a smile spread across her face: he'd moved her shift under her so that she wouldn't have to lay back against the forest floor, littered with errant leaves and clumps of dirt.

It was an unexpectedly romantic, thoughtful gesture, and in the midst of all the death and chaos that surrounded them, it brought tears to her eyes. They stung, and she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel them before they could fall. He cupped her cheek, looking down at her in concern.

She let out a brief laugh—a single exhale, really—and shook her head. "It is nothing."

He didn't say anything, but caressed her cheek once before moving his hands down to her waist again. The small interruption in their previously frenzied motions seemed to have grounded him, and his hands were gentle, slow again, as they drifted down her body. He made quick work of her lower armor pieces, setting them aside in the growing pile beside them.

Finally, they were both left in only their pants—him in his leather ones, and her in mere cloth leggings. As such, when he trailed his fingers down along her legs, she could feel his touch as if she were wearing nothing at all. It was overwhelming, and she threw her head back as she gasped.

Illidan moved back up her body, trailing kisses along her skin. When he was directly over her, he braced himself on his left arm, hooking the fingers of his right hand in her waistband. He looked down at her with a silent question in his eyes, lightly trailing his fingertips back and forth along her skin, sending pulses of pleasure through her core.

Unable to verbalize her assent, all Eliana could manage was a fervent nod. A smirk teased at the corner of his mouth. He looked away, focusing on removing her leggings. Inch by inch, he pulled them down, his gaze growing progressively more lustful. When her leggings were bunched around her ankles, she lifted her legs to help him get them off.

Now, she was more exposed than she'd _ever_ been in front of a male. With darkened cheeks, she tucked her chin into the groove of her shoulder to hide her face. Illidan was having none of that, and he tsked at her, lightly running his hand along the length of her leg. The motion tickled, but an underlying current of pleasure also coursed through her. Unsure of how to process the mixture of sensory information, she held her breath as she tilted her head back.

"Breathe, Eliana. I won't go farther until you're ready," he reassured her, his voice raspy and seemingly strained.

"I am ready, I just—I was just a bit overwhelmed. Please don't stop," she breathed, moving back to stare into his eyes.

He leaned down, nuzzling the tip of her nose with his own before planting a brief kiss on her lips. "I have no intention of stopping."

Again, he trailed his fingertips down the length of her leg, following shortly after with the rest of his body. As he made his way lower, he planted kisses along her skin much like before, only this time, he did everything he could to drive her mad. When he pressed his lips against the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, his tongue snaked out, drawing the tiniest of circles on her skin. After pulling away, he blew on it lightly, and the cold hair juxtaposed with the warmth radiating off of her made her shiver.

Desperate for more of his touch, Eliana reached for Illidan, her hands tangling in his hair. Briefly, he reached up to touch her hand before moving lower still, and her fingers slid along his temples. Another kiss by the apex of her thighs, and then, _then_ , just at the top of her core. It was the last thing she'd been expecting, and a sharp gasp escaped her as she jolted in place. More surprising than even his place between her thighs was the feeling of molten desire at her core; all she wanted to do was squeeze her legs together, but with him in the way, that was impossible.

"What are you—" she began to ask, but Illidan shushed her before looping his arms around her thighs, caressing her lightly with his fingers.

"You've said that you trust me. Trust that what I want to do will bring you pleasure."

Eliana looked down the length of her body at him, her brows cinched in confusion and hesitation. Eventually, she nodded, slowly threading her fingers through the soft strands of his hair once more. Because of his ponytail, she could only make it about halfway through before her fingers got snagged. She must have let out a frustrated whimper, because a small puff of hair hit her core before he sat up.

With an amused smile, Illidan reached up and undid the leather tie that held his hair together. In a cascade of dark strands, his hair fell around his face, framing his high cheekbones and strong jawline. A quiet sigh escaped her as he rested his weight on his forearms once more, throwing her long legs over his shoulders.

When she felt his breath on her core once more, she reflexively tensed up, unable to stop herself. Like before, he caressed the soft flesh of her thighs in an attempt to get her to relax. Her muscles remained tight, and he reached out to her with one hand as he said, "If you need to put your hands in my hair again, I will not complain."

A nervous chuckle was her only response before she did just that. Concentrating on the feeling of running her fingers through his hair uninhibited, she gradually relaxed until she was fully laying back on her shift once more. That is, until she felt the first swipe of his tongue along her slit.

"Oh, Elune!" Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging at the strands. A slight groan left him, before he moved his fingers to either side of her core, opening her just a bit more before him.

"You taste—" Again, he slid his tongue along the length of her, swirling the tip lightly around her clit. "— _incredible_."

Every motion of his tongue sent waves of pleasure coursing through her. When he closed his lips over her clit and suckled, in much the same way he'd done to her nipples, she couldn't help but throw back her head and let out a strained cry. To her surprise, he didn't chastise her. Briefly, she wondered if he'd cast some sort of spell when they'd started. Perhaps it muffled the sounds he knew she'd make, or prevented others in the camp from accidentally stumbling upon them.

Illidan didn't give her much of a chance to continue her line of thought, however. A moment later, he moved lower, lapping up the evidence of her arousal with fervor. Surprised, Eliana pressed her thighs together, against Illidan's head. He grunted, and she loosened her hold on his hair as well as moving her legs apart.

Before she had a chance to apologize, Illidan shifted his hold on her legs, moving his hands underneath the curve of her bottom. Without warning, he lifted her up. The slick length of his tongue slid into her, sending ripples of pleasure outwards from her core. Every time he thrusted into her, a choked gasp left her as she pulled at his hair.

"Illidan, Illidan," Eliana gasped.

He didn't let up. With every swirl of his tongue, every thrust into her core, he took her higher and higher. Tension built within her, until her entire body was taut, and she was arching her back in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

When he paused and pulled away slightly, she whimpered. "Wh—Please, Illidan, I . . ." What exactly did she need? What was it she was trying to ask him to do?

He pressed a brief kiss to her inner thigh before capturing her clit between his lips once more. When he slid a finger into her, hooking it up and under to hit a certain spot inside of her she never knew existed, a shocked gasp left her. It transformed into a deep moan as he pulled at the bundle of nerves with his mouth, again, and then again. With every draw, the tension within her became tighter and tighter. On the fourth, she snapped.

Her keening cry filled the air around them as she arched completely off the ground. The world faded away as she squeezed her eyes shut, holding on to the strands of Illidan's hair so tightly, she might've worried she was pulling them out if she hadn't been otherwise distracted. Wave upon wave of pleasure crested over her, stealing her breath until there was nothing left.

Gradually, she floated back down into her body. Raindrops fell gently on her face; she hadn't even noticed the raining on her skin, she'd been so into the moment. At that thought, her fingers twitched, and she realized that they were no longer tangled in Illidan's hair. When she opened her eyes, Illidan was hovering over her, a fond smile on his face.

"Welcome back," he teased, lightly running the backs of his fingers along her cheek.

Despite what she'd just experienced, what they'd just shared, her cheeks darkened in embarrassment. "I . . . I am not sure what to say."

"Don't say anything, then," he replied, rolling over onto his other elbow so that he was directly over her. "Let me do all the talking."

Fully relaxed now—which she suspected was his goal—Eliana reached up and wound her arms around his neck. His loose hair fell around them like a curtain hiding them from the rest of the world. It made the moment feel that much more intimate, if such a thing was even possible.

"Do you normally talk a lot during . . . this?" she asked, quirking her brow at him.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. "We are doing _this_ , and you cannot even say the word?"

Again, her cheeks darkened and she turned away from him. He tsked at her, before reaching down and easing her face forward again. "I am teasing, Eliana. I am sorry if what is well-intentioned does not come across as such."

"I know you do not mean it in a hurtful way."

"Good." He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. This kiss was no less intense than any of their previous ones, but it lacked fire, urgency. It almost felt like he was savoring the moment, like he _wanted_ to take his time.

When he pulled away, he leaned back on his calves and reached down to lift her leg. He cradled it in the crook of his elbow as he trailed his fingers down the length of her abdomen. The featherlight touch made her lower abdomen quiver, like the fluttering of a bird's wings.

A quick glance down the length of his body had her lowering her brows in consternation. "You are still wearing pants."

He followed her gaze, letting out a chuckle a moment later. "You are right. Do you wish for me to take them off?"

She took her lower lip between her teeth, nodding with a heavy-lidded gaze. To her surprise, instead of standing up, he moved over her again, hooking his arm beneath her waist. "Whatever you wish," he whispered into her ear, before he turned them over again.

Now that he was on the ground and she was above him, he lifted her a bit higher so that she was straddling him just above his hips. In one quick motion, he shucked off his pants and tossed them aside, no longer caring where they went. Overcome with curiosity, she moved to look under her arm at his newly exposed body. To her surprise, he stopped her, lifting her chin with a single finger.

"Don't. You can look later."

"But, why—"

"Trust me, I do not mind in the least if you do. But I know if you look now, you'll lose all nerve." He paused, running his hands up and down her arms. "Trust me, remember?"

Even though the urge to see the most intimate part of him was incredibly strong, she nodded. She'd said she trusted him. This was when she would prove it.

Illidan moved his hand, cupping her cheek now. With gentle hands, he guided her lower, until her core was positioned above his hips. He paused, his jaw clenching over and over, until he finally asked, "You are sure, Eliana?"

It was the most uncertain she had ever heard him sound. Almost as if he expected her to deny him, after all they'd gone through already—as if she ever could deny him anything. Her brows cinched as she pressed her lips together, cradling his cheek with her hand. She stared into his eyes, so uniquely beautiful, and yet, filled with worry.

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life, Illidan."

A hesitant smile teased at the corner of his lips, before he pulled her down for a deep kiss. He slid his tongue into her mouth, much like he'd done to her core shortly before. When it slid along the length of hers, she moaned, and it disappeared into the heat of their kiss. As he continued to melt her from the inside out, he pushed down on her hips, bringing her closer to his.

His arousal nudged her outer lips, and she jerked in surprise, pulling away from the kiss to gasp. He tightened his grip on her hips, murmuring soft words of reassurance to her. When her heart slowed enough that it didn't feel like it was trying to burst out of her chest, she nodded.

Again, he lowered her. This time, when his arousal pressed at her entrance, she didn't shy away, though she did grip his shoulders tightly. He flexed his fingers on her hips, and she looked up at him, confused.

"I want you to control the pace we go at, Eliana. The last thing I wish is to hurt you, but you have to help me."

A hesitant nod was her only answer, and he reached down, positioning his member at her entrance. When he swept it between her folds, she let out another gasp. It was overshadowed by his rough groan, and he squeezed his eyes shut so hard, she thought she'd hurt him for a moment.

"Gods, you feel amazing."

His words made her cheeks darken again. Would any of this ever stop embarrassing her?

As soon as he was in position again, he gave Eliana a terse nod. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his chest, pressing down for leverage as she followed his cue and lowered her hips. Inch by inch, he entered her, letting out occasional grunts through clenched teeth.

It was a strange feeling, she had to admit. She felt . . . full, complete, though at the same time, it was almost as if she wanted to squirm away from him. The feeling continued to grow the more of him she took in, and when he was nearly halfway, he gripped her hips again.

"Remember to go slow, Eliana," he reminded her in a gravelly voice.

"Whatever for?" She was anxious to move past this point; she _needed_ more of him.

"I don't want to hurt you, as eager as I am to feel you around me."

His words caused her cheeks to darken to a deep violet, but she assumed he knew what he was speaking about. With gradual motions, she moved lower, inch by inch, until their bodies were flush against one another. If it had felt odd before, it was exceptionally strange now. She had never felt so _completely_ full, so stretched—almost to the point of being uncomfortable.

Illidan, however, seemed to feel otherwise. The muscle in his jaw ticked, and he was clenching his teeth so hard, it _had_ to be hurting him. Still, he opened his eyes and asked, "Are you all right?"

Eliana reached down, caressing the curve of his cheek. "I am fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I—It usually hurts the first time for the female. Or so I've been told."

Concentrating, she glanced upwards. "I would not say that it _hurts_ , though it is a little uncomfortable. But . . . I do not know what else to do. Is this all there is?"

He chuckled, and she was surprised to feel him move inside of her. With a lustful gaze, he ran his hands along her outer thigh. "Hardly. I leave this up to you. If you wish to take control, you are more than free to. However, I can take the lead, if you prefer."

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth again, working it back and forth as she thought about his words. As much as she appreciated how tender and considerate he was being, truth be told, she had no idea what to do. So many of the older sisters always spoke about the magic of this connection, of the moment. She didn't want to ruin that with her naivety and inexperience.

After taking a deep breath, she said, "I think I would prefer if you took over."

Without any further preamble, he flipped them over, cradling her head in his hands so that it wouldn't smack against the ground. As he pulled away, he trailed his fingers along her hairline, sweeping errant strands back in an almost loving fashion. Or at least, as much as her heart let her hope.

With gentle hands, he lifted her hips, sliding back into her with ease. A raspy moan escaped her; the movement had been so unexpected, she'd had no time to hold back her cry. As soon as he was fully seated inside of her, he pulled back again before immediately thrusting once more. Again and again, he drove into her. Each snap of his hips had her crying out in pleasure, grasping at his upper arms for some sort of purchase. If she didn't, she was afraid she might float away completely.

When Illidan reached down and grazed her clit, almost lazily, she sunk her nails into his muscle, earning her a grunt. His touch had sent sparks through her body, shooting down to the tips of her fingers and toes. Each subsequent touch felt like he was pushing her higher and higher, urging her to reach the point of utter bliss like he had before.

"I'm sorry, I—" Eliana breathed, unable to finish her sentence.

"I know. It's all right." Illidan, too, sounded out of breath, strained as if he could barely contain himself.

A particularly intense rush of pleasure swept over her, and she arched her back as she slid her arms up along the length of Illidan's broad shoulders. "Illidan, I need—"

"I know, Eliana. I know," he whispered against her neck, snaking out his tongue to lick along her sweat-slick skin. Even that slightest of touches set more sparks of pleasure off in her core. "Fall. I will catch you."

He pressed her clit harder, rotating his fingers in a circular motion that stole her breath in its entirety. All she could manage now were short gasps that were strained with tension, much like the rest of her. Each brush of his fingers pulled that tension tighter, and tighter, and with one final thrust of his hips, she broke apart in his arms.

Unlike the first moment of bliss he'd given her, this time, she wasn't able to make any sound. Her mouth fell open, yes, but all she could manage to do was hold on to him, her fingers digging into the hard muscle of his back. All sounds of the forest faded to nothing, until all she could hear was the pounding of her heart—pounding for him, because of her love for him. That love swelled within her breast, threatening to spill over and take her whole.

Part of her wondered if it hadn't already.

From afar, she could hear the faint sound of his cries, felt the pace of his hips speed up until he stilled above her. It felt like eons had passed when the sound of the rain, falling against the canopy above them, came back to her. When she noticed the sound of his breathing again, she opened her eyes—she hadn't even realized she'd closed them.

In one motion, Illidan keeled over beside her, letting out one final, heavy exhale. He draped his arm over her waist, pulling insistently at her. A quiet laugh left her, before she rolled over onto her side, resting her head on his proffered arm. They were quiet for a long time, both of them listening to the sounds of the forest around them and the beat of one another's hearts.

Finally, Illidan spoke. His voice rumbled through his chest, and she could feel the vibration in her own head. "What are you thinking?"

Absentmindedly tracing circles on his chest with her finger, she shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing at all. It is . . . nice."

In truth, she felt _tired_. Her eyes felt as if they were made of stone, dry and heavy in her sockets. All she wanted to do was sleep, but they were in the middle of the forest, for one, and they were _naked_.

Nearly half-asleep as it were, Eliana barely felt Illidan press his lips to her temple. He said something to her, something that sounded vaguely like a question, but she didn't register his words. When she hummed, unable to form the words to ask him what he'd said, he chuckled.

"Nothing. Sleep, Eliana. I will watch over you."

And then her eyes slid shut, and the world fell away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure how this chapter ended up so long, hahahah. I just wanted their first time to be perfect, and as a result, I spent far more time working on this chapter than I usually do. I suppose that's a good thing?
> 
> Thanks to everyone for all of the lovely comments on the last chapter!!!!! I always feel so bad that it takes me ages to update, and when I post and receive an influx of comments and love, it makes my day/week/year. I appreciate y'all so much <3
> 
> Lastly, as always, thanks to Arenoptara for beta-reading!
> 
> See you guys next chapter! Although I don't know when that will be :x


	24. Chapter 24

In the hours just before dawn, when the night was coldest and the sun's rays had barely begun to peek over the horizon, Illidan crept through the underbrush of the forest. The scent of nature filled his senses: the dewy undertone of the moisture in the air from the dispersing rainstorm mellowed out the strong note of dirt and foliage. If it wasn't for that, the scent would have been sharp in his nostrils. His boots pressed lightly down on the fallen leaves beneath his feet, with nary a sound. He may have been a sorcerer, but he was equally as adept at stealth, unlike what most elves believed.

Like a shadow, he flitted from tree to tree, hiding at the base of each colossal trunk until it was safe to slide into the next patch of darkness. Thankfully, at this hour, the camp was nearly silent; an occasional soldier on patrol would circle a tent nearby, before disappearing from sight once again. The low concentration of bodies milling about made it significantly easier to slip away unnoticed, as much as it pained him to do so.

He had left her there, alone in the clearing, like some vagrant or criminal who was ashamed of what he'd done. He  _wasn't_ , but it was two entirely different things to say that to himself, and to actually believe it. There was a small, lingering sense of guilt in him, and the voice in his mind reminded him that, even if he'd been honest with her about his reasons for leaving, she likely wouldn't have understood. Would she have judged him like he knew Tyrande would have? After a moment of hesitation, he decided . . . no, she wouldn't have—not Eliana. But judge him or not, she wouldn't have  _understood_ , and that was, ultimately, the crux of it all.

Still, once she'd fallen asleep, it was all he could do to tear his gaze away from her face. Never before had he seen her look so . . . serene, so at peace. It pained him to know that the war was such a burden on her; she felt everything so deeply, took everything at such a personal level, that if there were any way that he could take that weight off of her shoulders, he would. In fact, he  _was_.

Wasn't that why he was leaving in the first place?

Sidling up to the tree closest to him, Illidan crouched down to wait for the guard across the way to move. Back and forth the soldier paced, until he finally meandered down the path, weaving between the canvas tents until he was out of sight. Off to the side, the large herd of sabers congregated. They ruffled their manes, shifting their weight over and over as they restlessly waited for their handlers to arrive.

Maintaining his crouch, he quickly scampered over to the sabers, searching the pack for the mount he'd been using since the war had started. When he finally found it, he approached slowly, so as not to startle the rest of the group. Soft, murmured words had the frostsaber purring into his palm, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Without another sound, he secured his small pack to the side of the saddle and climbed atop the mount.

With only a single glance back to the section of the forest that he'd left Eliana in, he left the Night Elven encampment and headed for Zin-Azshari.

* * *

_Three hours later_

The forests surrounding Zin-Azshari were eerily quiet. A sickly green fog permeated the air, rolling across the path like vaporized poison. Normally, the chatter of wildlife and insects filled the air, backed by the hum of activity from the capital. Hearing the landscape so utterly silent threw even Illidan off, and he was nowhere near as in tune with nature as his twin.

When the spires of the city were visible above the treeline, Illidan halted his mount. With a shake of its fur, and a huff, it obeyed, coming to a stop in the middle of the path. A quick scan of the road ahead revealed that it was as abandoned as it seemed, but he knew that things were often not the way they appeared—especially when it came to the Burning Legion. He directed his mount off the path, guiding it to a patch of shade underneath the twisted skeleton of a tree.

Quickly, he dismounted, patting the saber on the head when it shuffled uneasily. He didn't blame the beast; though he'd never been a passionate advocate for his own people, even he could admit that the atmosphere felt . . . unsettling, here. However, that discomfort was overshadowed with the veins of power he could feel running through the ground below. Whatever they were doing in Zin-Azshari, it required high concentrations of energy, of magic. His own veins hummed in response, and he fought to control the urge to sprint towards the city.

He had always been enticed by the prospect of  _more_ —more power, more control, more abilities. Still, despite that thirst that existed within him, he had seen firsthand what the Legion could do. It was appalling, the things fel energy did to whatever it touched . . . but it was also powerful beyond belief. If he could find a way to harness that energy, but without the negative side effects, he could be an even  _greater_  sorcerer.  _He_ could be the one to end this war.

"In due time," he muttered to himself. At the sound of his voice, the mount glanced in his direction. "Yes, you are right:  _your_ time is now."

He unclasped his pack from the saddle, setting it down beside him on the dirt. From a hidden sheath on his boot, he pulled out a dagger, twirling it in his hand as he stared into the mount's eyes. This time, when the beast shuffled, it moved away from him.

"Calm yourself," Illidan scoffed. "I'm not going to hurt you. But I  _do_ need you to do something for me . . ." He trailed off, taking the dagger and slicing into the opposite palm. Blood welled in the curve of his hand, and he let it pool a decent amount before walking towards the mount.

The saber shimmied away again, and he had to grasp the reins to keep it from running too far. "Stay still," he scolded as he ran his palm down the beast's side.

A smear of red followed the path of his hand, staining the saber's snow-white fur crimson. Clearly unnerved with the sensation of fresh, wet blood on its fur, the beast let out a rumble, deep in its chest. He murmured comforts to it, trying to get it to settle as he waited for more blood to collect in his palm. After grasping the pommel of the saddle and leaving a well-placed bloody handprint, he marked errant spots on the saber's body, making it appear as if he had been injured and attempted to mount the saber in his haste to escape—that, or he'd been dragged off his mount.

When the scene was adequately set, he stepped back. The saber looked up at him with shrewd eyes, and he patted its rump. "Go on, then. Return to camp."

Though he knew the saber understood him, the beast hesitated, seemingly confused as to why Illidan would send him off without riding atop him. Again, he tried to nudge the beast in the direction they'd come, and again, the saber did not leave. Knowing he had no choice but to force the beast, he clenched his fist and channeled energy into his palm, aiming a small spell at the ground beside the saber.

Flames ignited at the saber's feet, and the beast jumped back with a growl. Another spell had the saber finally sprinting off in the direction of the Night Elven encampment, leaving clouds of dust in its wake.

Illidan watched the beast scamper away, and the briefest flare of unsurety burned through him. Now that the mount was gone, he was fully committed to his plan: infiltrate Zin-Azshari and the Burning Legion, and turn the tide in favor of his people, or die trying and be branded a traitor. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he clenched his jaw and looked back in the direction of the capital.

"I've come this far . . ." He trailed off, his fingers curling into his palm as he stared at the gilded spires ahead. "I cannot fail now."

With his eyes trained on the city ahead, he rummaged through his pack for the cloak he'd packed earlier. After wrapping it around his shoulders and pulling the hood up, he stared up at the capital, his expression impassive. Finally, after a beat passed, he began moving towards Zin-Azshari.

Though the surrounding area was deserted, he knew that the closer he got to the city proper, the likelier it was that he'd come across a demon.  _Exactly according to plan_ , he thought with a grin.

Palming the dagger he'd used earlier, he shifted into a crouch and slunk into the trees—or at least, what was left of them. Using the underbrush as cover was no stranger to him, and he peered through the sapped, broken branches as he moved. There were bound to be patrols circling the city perimeter, and he scanned the fields for any semblance of movement.

When the grandiose city gates were finally in view, the first demons made an appearance: a pair of colossal, horned warriors paced along the path in front of the gates, flanked by a matching pair of Felhounds. The twisted, demonic creatures tossed their manes, grinding their excessively sharp teeth in preparation for meeting Night Elven flesh. Drool trickled from their mouths, and the spines that lined their skulls in place of eyes twitched in haunting ways—much like the tentacles that sprouted from their bodies.

At the sight of the beasts, the magic thrumming through Illidan's body tingled; he knew what damage those tentacles could do, had seen it firsthand. His grip on the dagger tightened, and he watched the demons move back and forth, noting their pattern.

It was then that he noticed . . .  _these_ warriors seemed more adept than most of the Legion's lackeys. While the vast majority of them simply followed orders, lumbering their way through the battlefield and beyond, these seemed actively aware of their surroundings. One of the demons had what looked like a whip wound around its beefy hand. Occasionally, it unfurled the whip to snap at one of the hounds, bringing the creature back to its place beside the demon.

He needed to clear the way to the gates, but how to do it without calling the attention of the entire patrol?

_Perhaps if I simply . . ._

Illidan rose to his feet, keeping his hood up to conceal his face, but migrating closer to the path. With an outstretched palm, he concentrated the energy within him to the centermost point of his hand. Instead of throwing it towards the demons like he'd done earlier to distract the frostsaber, he wove the threads of energy, twining them together until they resembled a vine. Now, he snuck the magical sprig closer to the Fel Guard, though he kept it just out of their purview.

As planned, one of the felhounds sensed the magical energy in the air. Even with its lack of eyes, it turned in the direction of Illidan's vine. The heads of its tentacles swiveled around, opening up like blossoming petals in the springtime.  _If only it were that pure_ , he thought with a twisted grimace.

As the hound moved closer, the Fel Guard finally noticed that its charge was wandering away. It tried to crack its whip and summon the hound back, but the call of magic and the prospect of feeding upon its source was far too great for the creature. Seemingly frustrated, the demon growled something at its counterpart before stomping after the beast.

When the felhound was close enough, Illidan dissipated the glowing vine. If he thought the beast was capable of feeling emotions, he might've wondered whether it was confused; the tilt of its head seemed almost saber-like in its inherent curiosity.

He took the opportunity to surprise the demonic creature, springing up from the underbrush with his dagger drawn and channeled energy in the palm of his other hand. Reeling back, the felhound "stared" up at him as the bony bristles atop its head raised. Neither one of them wasted a moment; Illidan leapt over the tumble of branches between them, throwing the collected energy towards the felhound as it launched itself towards him, maws wide open. The spell hit its target, nestling in the demonic creature's mouth. Tendrils of energy spawned from the point of contact, wrapping the beast in glittering tentacles. It froze in mid-air before crashing back down to the ground.

With his goal achieved, he could now focus on getting rid of the excess distractions.

The Fel Guard that had tried to call back its beast now charged towards Illidan, ebony ax raised high in the air. With a guttural roar, it slid its hooves through the dirt and swung its weapon in a wide arc. If he hadn't been ready for it, predictable as the Legion's lackeys were, he would've been cleaved in half. Thankfully, a well-timed spell had him behind the demon as it finished its swing.

Deftly, he slid the dagger up and under the demon's ribs while simultaneously throwing another spell at it. Once the spell made contact, Illidan leapt away, giving the Fel Guard some space—and for good reason. As soon as his boots touched the dirt again, inky black tentacles erupted from the ground and wrapped around the Fel Guard. It cried out in pain—an extended shriek at full volume that made Illidan cringe.

The demon's pained cry cut off abruptly, and its corpse toppled over onto the ground. As Illidan rose to his feet, the second Fel Guard and its accompanying hound circled around their comrade's body, beelining straight for him. Twirling his dagger, he channeled energy into his other palm again, watching the demons approach with a neutral, almost bored expression.

This  _is the best of their defenses?_ he thought with a scoff.  _Pathetic_.

Once the Fel Guard and its hound were in range, Illidan curled his fingers around the energy in his palm before slamming his fist into the dirt. At first, nothing happened. The Fel Guard let out a resonating, mocking laugh, obviously thinking that Illidan's spell hadn't worked. When it took another step towards him, a rumble from deep within the ground began, growing progressively louder until the dirt around them vibrated with unseen energy. Without warning, onyx spikes launched from the ground, impaling both the bipedal demon and its hound. They didn't even get a chance to scream, unlike the first.

When their corpses fell, Illidan absentmindedly twirled his dagger again as he meandered over to the frozen felhound. Sometime during the fight, his hood had fallen. A quick adjustment of the cape, and a flick of his wrist, and his face was hidden once more.

With the first security wave taken care of, the plains were silent. Still, that was no reason to dawdle. He knelt beside the hound and laid his hand against its side, easing the motion spell off. As the magic weaned, he filtered a new spell down through his fingertips to keep the felhound sedated. He needed it for his purposes, and couldn't afford to let it panic and lash out at the wrong moment.

A low hiss escaped the felhound, before transforming into a growl. Under his breath, Illidan murmured to it, waiting for the sedation spell to take full effect. Eventually, the felhound staggered to its feet, head swiveling around in confusion. Unwilling to waste any more time, he latched onto one of the beast's tentacles and hoisted himself atop the creature.

There was no saddle for comfort—the demons who commanded the felhounds were far too large to ride them like mounts—and he shifted his weight, trying to find a comfortable position. Eventually, he settled, figuring this was the best it was going to get. Besides, he wasn't going far.

When Illidan squeezed the beast's sides with his inner thighs, despite letting out a disgruntled snarl, it moved forward. Slowly, they approached the gates of Zin-Azshari, left open and accessible now that he'd dealt with the "guard". To his surprise, as they approached, he noticed that Elven guards lined the walls above. Their weapons were at their sides, but they looked vigilant nonetheless; he could feel their eyes on him as he moved closer to the gate.

_So it_ is  _true_ , he mused. There had been no end to the rumors that Queen Azshara and the Highborne were well aware of what was going on outside of the city—that they were  _involved_ , even. To see the queen's personal guard protecting the city's walls . . . could only mean that the rumors were, undeniably, true.

It also did not surprise him in the least that they had done nothing to help the demons fight against him. Though it was obvious—at least to him—that more powerful demons, higher in the hierarchy, were making the decisions out of sight, the Highborne in Azshara's circle likely thought  _they_ were the ones in power. They were the ones subjugating their fellow elven brethren; they were the ones putting all of Azeroth at risk.

He kept his gaze focused on the gates before him, but his fingers clenched around his makeshift reins, the felhound's tentacle.  _Someone needs to fix this, fix_ their  _mistakes. If no one else will step up, then I've really no other choice . . ._

When he finally approached the once-gilded gates, close enough to see the sneers on his fellow Elven brethren that were guarding the walls, he pulled back on the Felhound's tentacle. Gingerly avoiding the splines atop the creature's head, he dismounted.

He cleared his throat, and then bellowed, "I come to offer my services! To my queen, and to the lord of the Legion!"

Once he finished speaking, he could hear the echoes of his voice bouncing back to him from the walls. None of the guards moved, they simply stared down at him, their stares calculating and indiscernible from the ground. The tension in the air swam around him, enveloping him in its constricting embrace as he waited for a response— _any_ response, even if it was a fireball hurled at him from a sorcerer hidden in the capital's depths.

Finally, the gates opened. Hinges, rusted far sooner than they should have, creaked in protest, the sound grating at his nerves as he held himself back from visibly cringing. Once the way was clear, Illidan hoisted himself atop his makeshift mount once more, and ambled through the gates.

The noxious fog continued through the city, permeating every inch of air above the ground, and seeping into every alcove. Though the fog was unappealing enough to be avoided based on appearance alone, it was laced with the pulsing power of the Well of Eternity; he had never been this close to the Well, save a few scant trips to the capital as a young lad. His power had been significantly less prominent in his younger years, than it was now, and he could  _feel_ the threads, the ribbons of power, caressing him, begging for entrance.

As he rode through the once-illustrious plazas and courtyards of the capital with his hand wrapped tightly around the felhound's tentacle, he witnessed other hounds sniffing through the wreckage, likely looking for a worthy meal. Their handlers were roaming nearby, occasionally cracking a whip when one of their beasts strayed from their purpose.

To his surprise, they didn't react to his presence. A few would glance his way as he rode past, but none paid him any heed aside from that. It was . . . bizarre. To see the change in reaction from outside the walls to in . . . it made him wonder exactly  _what_  was going on at the palace. Had his words truly reached those in charge? Reached the  _queen_?

It seemed like he wouldn't have to wait long to discover the truth.

The location of the hounds and their masters marked a very clear path for Illidan to take, one that led straight to the still-glorious spires of the palace. Gilded towers that reached ever-higher into the now-darkened sky rose above the ruins of the city that surrounded it. The disparity was simultaneously jarring and a relief. Even if the queen was at fault, even if her followers were in cohorts with the Legion, if  _one_ piece of their culture survived this atrocious war . . .

Illidan shook his head so fiercely, the ends of his high ponytail whipped around to snap against his cheek. No, if anything were to survive, it should be the people—his people. Those who followed the queen were no longer considered as such. If he was to successfully fool them, however, he would need to cloak those emotions from those who would see into his mind.

It was too dangerous to reveal the truth. If the Legion were to discover his  _true_ agenda, this would all be for naught. He would have left Eliana for naught, left the safety of the encampment for naught. While it was true that his own safety was rarely his chief concern, Eliana was a different story. She had lost too much, as they all had, but to throw one more loss on top of an ever-growing list would simply be cruel.

No, he would carry out his plan, and carry it out successfully. He simply needed to play the part.

When he reached the bridge leading up to the palace's main doors, he hesitated, staring up at the grandeur before him. Guards milled about the ramparts high above, their posts intersected by banners that flowed in the breeze. It was almost disgusting, witnessing the fact that the Highborne were still flaunting their opulence despite the fact that the ruins of their people sat just across the way. He gripped the felhound's tentacle tightly in his hand, barely hearing the squeal of pain the beast let out.

After a moment, he dismounted, finally allowing his makeshift mount to scurry off into the fog behind him. Just like the gates to the city proper, the arched doors ahead of him parted to let him through, all without a servant or elf in sight.

Wary of an ambush, he proceeded at a leisurely pace, looking for all the world as if he felt at peace within the palace walls. When the echo of an armored footstep clanged throughout the expansive hall, Illidan came to a halt, his shoulders tensing in anticipation.

An elf emerged from the shadows between pillars, a hand resting on the hilt of the great sword strapped to his waist. He was pale,  _noticeably_  so: instead of lavender or deep plum as his skin tone, he was almost . . . peach-colored, instead; a pale wash of color that resembled the shades of the coming day, as opposed to the sky during the moonrise. It was a characteristic that immediately set him apart as a Highborne, not a Night Elf.

His armor, a deep green that rivaled the depths of the forest, glittered in the flickering firelight. Behind him, a cape of molten gold fluttered with every step; it matched the sunburst pattern that lined his breastplate with a decidedly purposeful design, one that was meant to leave the viewer in awe of his station.

Though Illidan was  _not_ crippled with awe, he would be a blind fool not to notice that this elf was of some importance. If the armor and the cape hadn't clued him in, it would've been the lines of soldiers that quietly lined the perimeter of the room, almost immediately after the elf had made his appearance. That, and the scar that marred the elf's features was evidence that he had seen his fair share of violence.

Straightening his shoulders, Illidan faced the stranger head-on, holding his gaze as the elf came to a stop immediately before him.

In a voice that rivaled the late Commander Ravencrest, the soldier spoke. "I hear you wish to serve the Light of all Lights, our unrivaled Queen Azshara?"

It was all Illidan could do not to quirk his brow in sarcastic defiance. "That is what I said at the gates, yes."

The soldier's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone,  _boy_. The Queen will have little patience for your quips, and I must admit that I, too, have very minimal tolerance for disrespect."

Illidan inclined his head ever-so-slightly. "My apologies, I did not mean to offend. I was simply stating that I had already declared my desires at the gates, and such, I thought you were aware of them. If you would so allow me to serve our queen, and the Legion, then yes, that is what I wish."

Though the apology stung his pride, he knew he had to bite his tongue—if only to convince those in charge that he was  _truly_ here to serve. If that is what it took, then by Elune, he would do it.

Apparently, it seemed his words, though empty in their true nature, had worked. The soldier nodded, his expression less terse than it had been when he'd first approached. With a dramatic swish of his cape, he turned, speaking to Illidan over his shoulder. "I am Captain Varo'then, leader of our queen's forces. Until I am convinced that you are to be trusted, I will oversee your work. When the time comes that you have proven your worth," he gestured for Illidan to follow him as he led the way out of the great hall, "then I will introduce you to our Light of Lights."

Again, Illidan offered a nod. "As you wish, Captain."

Captain Varo'then was a man of considerable pride, it would seem. With Illidan's assurance that he would defect to Varo'then's direction, he straightened his shoulders, enjoying every moment that he had in the spotlight, as the man in charge.

Illidan wondered how the Captain acted when in the presence of Queen Azshara. It was well rumored that many elves were often so in awe of the queen's beauty, that they were hardly capable of forming coherent thoughts. If the Captain was so pleased to be the one giving orders, Illidan doubted that he acted as such when there were those above him—especially royalty.

They turned down a side hall, dark, and seemingly abandoned. Though the rest of the city was understandably deserted—what with the Legion having destroyed every quarter that  _wasn't_ home to the Highborne—Illidan was surprised to see the  _palace_ so . . . empty.

"Captain, if I may," Illidan began, waiting for the higher-ranking elf to respond. He didn't want to risk offending the elf again by speaking out of line.

The Captain offered a curt nod, and Illidan cleared his throat before speaking once more. "I'd heard that the queen's forces were considerable in size. Aside from the soldiers who accompanied you in the main hall, the palace seems . . . quite barren."

"You're observant. That's good." Varo'then paused, swiveling to look at Illidan. "A good number of my men are up on the ramparts, patrolling the palace's perimeter and ensuring we have no . . . surprise guests, such as yourself. Aside from that, the remainder are still in the barracks, on the other end of the grounds. Queen Azshara is . . . delicate. She has no desire to see the atrocities of war, and the sight of soldiers filling her grand halls is a constant reminder of such."

"I see." The idea that the queen did not wish to lay eyes on armed soldiers was preposterous. If she were to look out of her balcony window, she would see much more than unused weapons, and suits of armor milling about. The plains surrounding the capital were riddled with decay, with the pungent evidence of so many deaths. Could she truly somehow be oblivious to the war going on outside of Zin-Azshari?

"You would do well to remember that. When you are introduced to the queen, speak little of the war outside our walls. If you can manage it, leave it out of the conversation entirely unless she asks you specific questions. If you are to answer her questions, do not  _ever_ mention the gruesome details," Varo'then added as he finally continued down the hall.

"Understood," Illidan replied, trailing after the captain with little notice of their surroundings.

It wasn't until they came to a stop before a large, wooden door that Illidan realized the scenery had changed. The door ran floor-to-ceiling, coming to a peak at the top of the extremely tall wall. At about shoulder height, two metal rings protruded from the door, serving as handles that led to wherever their final destination was.

Considering the air had grown noticeably cooler, and the decorated walls of the great hall had given way to simple stone blocks, Illidan guessed they were heading somewhere that most elves rarely saw—that is, unless they were in a great deal of trouble.

"Your first task, sorcerer—You  _are_ a sorcerer, are you not?" Varo'then looked Illidan up and down with narrowed, calculating eyes.

"I am." Illidan was surprised that Varo'then could tell. Most elves who were not magically inclined rarely noticed those that were, unless there was some dramatic display of said abilities. There were always exceptions to that rule, such as Priestesses of Elune or those who were trained to recognize anomalies in others.

"I can practically  _smell_ the energy on you; after all the sorcerers we've had around here, I would have to be blind not to notice," the Captain offered by way of an explanation.

Illidan wasn't sure what the Captain expected as a response, so all he could offer was a nod. With Illidan's apparent consent, Varo'then continued. "Anyway, your first task is to prove your worth to us. We've plenty of sorcerers about, we hardly are in dire need of one more. Come."

Without waiting for a reply this time, Varo'then pushed open the massive door with a resounding creak. Illidan slipped through the open doorway, and once he was standing beside Varo'then on the opposite side, the Captain let go of the door. It slammed shut with an ominous boom, and Illidan had to hold himself back from visibly cringing.

_Is he always this . . . dramatic? Are_ all  _of the_   _Highborne like this?_ Illidan wondered with a mental sigh of annoyance.  _Perhaps this is going to be much more taxing than I anticipated._

Again, Varo'then stalked off without so much as waiting for Illidan.

Once Illidan caught up, he glanced about his surroundings, taking note of the room. Off in the distance, he could hear the sound of water dropping, slow and steady, with a clear  _plop_ that echoed throughout the halls. Vines of ivy climbed up the stone walls, disappearing through cracks that led to other parts of the palace. Here, less opulent torches lit their path down the narrow hallway, and the flames cast long, flickering shadows across the walls and floor.

Pooling around their feet was a mysterious, thick fog, though less sinister in nature than the sickly, green fog that littered the landscape around the city. These tendrils of cloudy moisture were a pale, waxen shade, similar to a shaft of moonlight. With every step they took, the fog parted, curling around their ankles before forming together again in their wake.  _This_ fog was not tainted with fel energy, something Illidan noticed almost immediately.

"Where exactly are we going, Captain?" Illidan questioned in a quiet voice. Despite the low volume he spoke at, his words still seemed to bounce back at them with a hollow tone.

Though Varo'then looked miffed that Illidan had questioned him, he replied nonetheless. "We've had a prisoner in our hold for quite some time, one that has proved surprisingly resilient. Many of our soldiers have tried to interrogate her, to no avail. Even when some of our sorcerers gave their best attempts, they, too, proved unsuccessful in their endeavors."

"And you wish for me to . . . ?" Illidan trailed off, staring at the back of Varo'then's head.

"I wish for  _you_ to try."

Illidan's mouth snapped shut. He may be a sorcerer of great ability—or so he considered himself—but he hadn't interrogated a  _prisoner_  before. Instead, Ravencrest had kept him up at the front lines during the war's greatest battles. Destruction and offense, he could do. The intricacies of mind play weren't necessarily something he shied away from, but he'd had little practice. In truth, Malfurion was the only one he'd even  _attempted_ to interrogate, and that didn't end nearly as well as it could have.

_Still, I cannot fail. Not if proving my worth is what I need to do in order to gain their trust._

As they continued down the winding hallway, the stone walls eventually gave way to bars of iron that ran from the ceiling, down through the floor they walked upon. They passed a few empty cells, and Illidan could have sworn there were a couple that housed skeletons in the far, dark recesses of the square spaces.

Finally, they came to a stop in front of a cell on their right, and Varo'then gestured to the bars. "If you please, sorcerer."

Illidan hesitated, his gaze shifting slightly as he fought to control his expression. After taking a deep breath, he nodded, stepping up to the bars to look inside the cell.

His blood ran cold, feeling more like sharpened shards that grated against the interior of his veins than the liquid that kept his heart beating. Sweat burst from his palms, and he clenched his hands into fists at his sides, hoping that Varo'then did not pick up on his unease. Hope that had all but disappeared weeks ago suddenly flooded into him again, traitorous as it was to Eliana.

He couldn't help his reaction, couldn't help the stutter that nearly stopped his heart.

She looked up at him, now-grungy waves of navy and silver parting around her upturned face, and he bit his tongue to keep his mouth shut. Her eyes widened, her shock rivaling his own, and he hoped that she wouldn't call out his name, ruining everything that he had planned.

_Tyrande_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liiiiive.
> 
> Okay, first things first: I scoured my copy of WotA, and could not find the first mention of Varo'then. Knaak's favorite descriptor for him is "scarred captain" - okay, but where is this scar? The image of him on the Wiki wasn't helpful, either, since he didn't even appear to have a scar. So I tried to go with a little bit of creative liberty here.
> 
> Speaking of creative liberty, this is basically a scene that didn't happen in the novel. It was my hope that I could bridge the gap that Knaak left; we don't get to see much of Illidan's early days after he defects, and I thought this might be kind of fun to explore. Also, for those who pay really close attention, you'll notice that I tweaked things a bit. In the novel, Tyrande /feels/ Illidan's presence, after his initial arrival. Of course, it makes for great angst if I make Tyrande Illidan's first test. So that was a bit of creative liberty as well.
> 
> As always, thanks to Arenoptara for beta-reading on such short notice all the time. And thanks to those of you who continually leave comments to keep me motivated :P I'd love to hear from all of you, though! Even if you've been silent lurkers the entire time. I promise I don't bite :3


End file.
